Lady T. You are a great bear, I'm sure, to abuse my relations.

Sir P. Now may all the plagues of marriage be doubled on me, if ever I try to be friends with you any more. Lady T. So much the better.

Sir P. No, no, madam: 'tis evident you never cared a pin for me, and I was a madman to marry you—a pert, rural coquette, that had refused half the honest squires in the neighborhood.

Lady T. And I am sure I was a fool to marry you—an old dangling bachelor, who was single at fifty, only because he never could meet with any one who would have him. [ Crosses L. Sir P. Ay, ay, madam; but you were pleased enough to listen to me: you never had such an offer before.

Lady T. No! didn't I refuse Sir Tivy Terrier, who everybody said would have been a better match? for his estate is just as good as yours, and he has broke his neck since we have been married. [Crosses R. You are an un

Sir P. I have done with you, madam! feeling, ungrateful-but there's an end of every thing. I believe you capable of every thing that is bad. Yes, madam, I now believe the reports relative to you and Charles, madam. Yes, madam, you and Charles are-not without grounds.

Lady T. Take care, Sir Peter! you had better not insinuate any such thing! I'll not be suspected without cause, I promise you.

Sir P. Very well, madam! very well! A separate maintenance as soon as you please! Yes, madam, or a divorce!—I'll make an example of myself for the benefit of all old bachelors.

Lady T. Agreed! agreed! And now, my dear Sir Peter, we are of a mind once more, we may be the happiest couple—and never differ again, you know-ha! ha! ha! Well, you are going to be in a passion, I see, and I shall only interrupt you; so, bye-bye. [Exit LADY TEAZLE.

Can't I make her

angry

Sir P. Plagues and tortures! either? Oh, I am the most miserable fellow! But I'll not bear her presuming to keep her temper: no! she may break my heart, but she sha'n't keep her temper.

[Exit.

CCIX.-FROM THE LADY OF THE LAKE.

Characters-KING JAMES, RODERIC DHU.

SCOTT.

Scene. A rock, with a watch-fire burning near it. A Scotch Highlander, Roderic Dhu, wrapped in his tartan, is discovered sleeping by it.

[Enter King James in a warrior's garb.]

Roderic. [Grasping his sword and springing on his feet.] Thy name and purpose, Saxon?-Stand!

James. A stranger.

Rod. What dost thou require ?

James. Rest and a guide, and food and fire.

My life's beset, my path is lost,

The gale has chilled my limbs with frost.

Rod. Art thou a friend to Roderic?
James. No.

Rod. Thou dost not call thyself his foe?

James. I dare, to him and all the band

He brings to aid his murderous hand.

Rod. Bold words! But, though the beast of game

The privilege of chase may claim:

Though space and law the stag we lend,

Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend,

Who ever cared where, how, or when

The prowling fox was trapped or slain ?

Thus treacherous scouts,-yet sure they lie,

Who say thou comest a secret spy.

James. They do, by Heaven! Come Roderic Dhu,

And of his clan the boldest two,

And, let me but till morning rest,

I'll write the falsehood on their crest.

Rod. If by the blaze I mark aright,

Thou bearest the belt and spur of knight.

James. Then by these tokens mayst thou know

Each proud oppressor's mortal foe.

Rod. Enough, enough: sit down and share

A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare.

[They sit down and eat together, and in a few minutes the soldier continues the conversation.]

Rod. Stranger, I am to Roderic Dhu,

A clansman born, a kinsman true:
Each word against his honor spoke,
Demands of me avenging stroke.
It rests with me to wind my horn,
Thou art with numbers overborne:
It rests with me, here, brand to brand,
Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand;
But not for clan, nor kindred's cause,
Will I depart from honor's laws.

To assail a wearied man were shame,
And Stranger is a holy name.
Guidance and rest, and food and fire,
In vain he never must require.
Myself will guide thee on the way,

Through watch and ward till break of day,
As far as Coilantogle ford;

From thence thy warrant is thy sword.

James. I take thy courtesy, by Heaven,

As freely as 'tis nobly given.

Rod. Why seek these wilds, traversed by few, Without a pass from Roderic Dhu?

James. Brave man, my pass, in danger tried, Hangs in my belt, and by my side.

Yet sooth to tell, though naught I dread,

I dreamed not now to claim its aid.
When here but three days since I came,
Bewildered in pursuit of game
All seemed as peaceful and as still,
As the mist slumbering on yon hill.
Thy dangerous chief was then afar,
Nor soon expected back from war;
Thus said, at least, my mountain guide,
Though deep, perchance, the villain lied.

Rod. Yet, why a second venture try?
James. A warrior, thou, and ask me why?
Perhaps I sought to drive away
The lazy hours of peaceful day:

Slight cause will then suffice to guide
A knight's free footsteps far and wide:
A falcon flown, a greyhound strayed,

The merry glance of mountain maid:

Or, if a path be dangerous known,
The danger's self is lure alone.

Rod. Thy secret keep: I urge thee not,
Yet, ere again you sought this spot,

Say, heard you not of lowland war,
Against Clan Alpine raised by Mar?

James. No, by my word; of bands prepared
To guard King James's sports I heard;
Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear
This muster of the Mountaineer,

Their pennons will abroad be flung,

Which else in Doune had peaceful hung.

Rod. Free be they flung! for we are loath Their silken folds should feed the moth. Free be they flung! as free shall wave Clan Alpine's pine in banner brave. But, stranger, peaceful since you came, Bewildered in the mountain game, Whence the bold boast, by which we know Vich Alpine's vowed and mortal foe?

James. Warrior, but yester morn, I knew
Naught of thy chieftain, Roderic Dhu,
Save as an outlawed, desperate man,
The chief of a rebellious clan,

Who in the regent's court and sight,
With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight.
Yet this alone should from his part
Sever each true and loyal heart.

Rod. [Frowning, and both rising hastily.]
And heardst thou why he drew his blade?
Heardst thou, that shameful word, and blow
Brought Roderic's vengeance on his foe?
What recked the chieftain, if he stood
On highland heath or Holy Rood?
He rights such wrong where it is given,
Though it were in the court of heaven.

James. Still it was outrage: yet, 'tis true,

Not then claimed sovereignty his due:
The young king, mewed in Stirling tower,
Was stranger to respect and power.
But then thy chieftain's robber life,
Winning mean prey by causeless strife,

Wrenching from ruined lowland swain
His flocks and harvest reared in vain-
Methinks a soul like thine, should scorn
The spoils from such foul conflict borne.

Rod. Saxon, from yonder mountain high,
I marked thee send delighted eye,
O'er waving fields and pastures green,
With gentle slopes, and groves between :
These fertile plains, that softened vale,
Were once the birthright of the Gael.
The Saxons came with iron hand,
And from our fathers reft the land.
Where dwell we now? see rudely swell
Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell.
Ask we this savage hill we tread,

For fattened steer, or household bread:
Ask we for flocks these shingles dry,
And well the mountain might reply:
"To you, as to your sires of yore,
Belong the target and claymore!
I give you shelter in my breast,
Your own good blades must do the rest."
Pent in this fortress of the north,
Thinkst thou we will not sally forth
To spoil the spoiler as we may,
And from the robber rend the prey?
Ay, by my soul! while on yon plain
The Saxon rears one shock of grain:

While of ten thousand herds, there strays
But one along yon river's maze-

The Gael, of plain and river heir,

Shall, with strong hand, redeem his share.
Where live the mountain chiefs, who hold
That plundering lowland field and fold,
Is aught but retribution due ?—

Seek other cause 'gainst Roderic Dhu.
And if I sought,

James.

Thinks thou no other could be brought?
What deem ye, of my path waylaid,
My life given o'er to ambuscade?

Rod. As a reward to rashness due:
Hadst thou sent warning fair and true,
Free hadst thou been to come and go: