_Hid from himself, now by the dawn, He starts as fresh as roses blawn; And ranges o'er the heights and lawn, After his bleeting flocks. Healthful, and innocently gay, He chants and whistles out the day; Untaught to smile, and then betray, Like courtly weathercocks._ _Life happy, from ambition free, Envy, and vile hypocrisie, Where truth and love with joy agree, Unsully'd with a crime: Unmov'd with what disturbs the great, In propping of their pride and state, He lives, and unafraid of fate, Contented spends his time._ Now tow'rds good Symon's house I'll bend my way, And see what makes yon gamboling to day, All on the green, in a fair wanton ring, My youthful tenants gayly dance and sing. [_Exit._ _ACT III.--SCENE II._ 'Tis Symon's house, please to step in, And vissy't round and round; There's nought superfluous to give pain, Or costly to be found. Yet all is clean: a clear peat-ingle Glances amidst the floor; The green-horn spoons, beech-luggies mingle, On skelfs foregainst the door. While the young brood sport on the green, The auld anes think it best, With the Brown Cow to clear their een, Snuff, crack, and take their rest. SYMON, GLAUD, _and_ ELSPA. _Glaud._ We anes were young our sells--I like to see The bairns bob round with other merrilie. Troth, Symon, Patie's grown a strapan lad, And better looks than his I never bade. Amang our lads, he bears the gree awa', And tells his tale the cleverest of them a'. _Els._ Poor man!--he's a great comfort to us baith: God mak him good, and hide him ay frae skaith. He is a bairn, I'll say't, well worth our care, That ga'e us ne'er vexation late or air. _Glaud._ I trow, goodwife, if I be not mistane, } He seems to be with Peggy's beauty tane, } And troth, my niece is a right dainty we'an, } As ye well ken: a bonnier needna be, Nor better,--be't she were nae kin to me. _Sym._ Ha! Glaud, I doubt that ne'er will be a match My Patie's wild, and will be ill to catch: And or he were, for reasons I'll no tell, I'd rather be mixt with the mools my sell. _Glaud._ What reason can ye have? There's nane, I'm sure, Unless ye may cast up that she's but poor: But gif the lassie marry to my mind, I'll be to her as my ain Jenny kind. Fourscore of breeding ews of my ain birn, Five ky that at ae milking fills a kirn, I'll gi'e to Peggy that day she's a bride; By and attour, gif my good luck abide, Ten lambs at spaining-time, as lang's I live, And twa quey cawfs I'll yearly to them give. _Els._ Ye offer fair, kind Glaud; but dinna speer What may be is not fit ye yet should hear. _Sym._ Or this day eight days likely he shall learn, That our denial disna slight his bairn.