plays [14]
but I'll take your word for
it. Is she not a tenant of yours?
LAWSON. Ay, ay; a bit house on my land in Liberton's Wynd. Her
man's awa, puir body; or they tell me sae; and I'm concerned for
her [she's unco bonnie to be left her lane]. But it sets me
brawly to be finding faut wi' the puir lass, and me an elder, and
should be at the plate. [There'll be twa words about this in the
Kirk Session.] However, it's nane of my business that brings me,
or I should tak' the mair shame to mysel'. Na, sir, it's for
you; it's your business keeps me frae the kirk.
BRODIE. My business, Procurator? I rejoice to see it in such
excellent hands.
LAWSON. Ye see, it's this way. I had a crack wi' the laddie,
Leslie, INTER POCULA (he took a stirrup-cup wi' me), and he tells
me he has askit Mary, and she was to speak to ye hersel'. O, ye
needna look sae gash. Did she speak? and what'll you have said
to her?
BRODIE. She has not spoken; I have said nothing; and I believe I
asked you to avoid the subject.
LAWSON. Ay, I made a note o' that observation, William [and
assoilzied mysel']. Mary's a guid lass, and I'm her uncle, and
I'm here to be answered. Is it to be ay or no?
BRODIE. It's to be no. This marriage must be quashed; and hark
ye, Procurator, you must help me.
LAWSON. Me? ye're daft! And what for why?
BRODIE. Because I've spent the trust-money, and I can't refund
it.
LAWSON. Ye reprobate deevil!
BRODIE. Have a care, Procurator. No wry words!
LAWSON. Do you say it to my face, sir? Dod, sir, I'm the Crown
Prosecutor.
BRODIE. Right. The Prosecutor for the Crown. And where did you
get your brandy?
LAWSON. Eh?
BRODIE. Your brandy! Your brandy man! Where do you get your
brandy? And you a Crown official and an elder!
LAWSON. Whaur the deevil did ye hear that?
BRODIE. Rogues all! Rogues all, Procurator!
LAWSON. Ay, ay. Lord save us! Guidsake, to think o' that noo!
. . . Can ye give me some o' that Cognac? I'm . . . . . I'm sort
o' shaken, William, I'm sort o' shaken. Thank you, William!
(LOOKING, PITEOUSLY AT GLASS.) NUNC EST BIBENDUM. (DRINKS.)
Troth, I'm set ajee a bit. Wha the deevil tauld ye?
BRODIE. Ask no questions, brother. We are a pair.
LAWSON. Pair, indeed! Pair, William Brodie! Upon my saul, sir,
ye're a brazen-faced man that durst say it to my face! Tak' you
care, my bonnie young man, that your craig doesna feel the wecht
o' your hurdies. Keep the plainstanes side o' the gallows. VIA
TRITA, VIA TUTA, William Brodie!
BRODIE. And the brandy, Procurator? and the brandy?
LAWSON. Ay . . . weel . . . be't sae! Let the brandy bide, man,
let the brandy bide! But for you and the trust-money . . .
damned! It's felony. TUTOR IN REM SUAM, ye ken, TUTOR IN REM
SUAM. But O man, Deacon, whaur is the siller?
BRODIE. It's gone - O how the devil should I know? But it'll
never come back.
LAWSON. Dear, dear! A' gone to the winds o' heaven! Sae ye're
an extravagant dog, too. PRODIGUS ET FURIOSUS! And that puir
lass - eh, Deacon, man, that puir lass! I mind her such a bonny
bairn.
BRODIE (STOPPING HIS EARS). Brandy, brandy, brandy, brandy,
brandy
LAWSON. William Brodie, mony's the long day that I've believed
in you; prood, prood was I to be the Deacon's uncle; and a sore
hearing have I had of it the day. That's past; that's past like
Flodden Field; it's an auld sang noo, and I'm an aulder man than
when I crossed your door. But mark ye this - mark ye this,
William Brodie, I may be no sae guid's I should be; but there's
no a saul between the east sea and the wast can lift his een to
God that made him, and say I wranged him as ye wrang that lassie.
I bless God,
William Brodie - ay, though he was like my brother - I bless God
that he that got ye has the hand of death upon his hearing, and
can win into his grave a happier man than me. And ye speak to
me, sir? Think shame - think shame upon your heart!
BRODIE. Rogues all!
LAWSON. You're the son
it. Is she not a tenant of yours?
LAWSON. Ay, ay; a bit house on my land in Liberton's Wynd. Her
man's awa, puir body; or they tell me sae; and I'm concerned for
her [she's unco bonnie to be left her lane]. But it sets me
brawly to be finding faut wi' the puir lass, and me an elder, and
should be at the plate. [There'll be twa words about this in the
Kirk Session.] However, it's nane of my business that brings me,
or I should tak' the mair shame to mysel'. Na, sir, it's for
you; it's your business keeps me frae the kirk.
BRODIE. My business, Procurator? I rejoice to see it in such
excellent hands.
LAWSON. Ye see, it's this way. I had a crack wi' the laddie,
Leslie, INTER POCULA (he took a stirrup-cup wi' me), and he tells
me he has askit Mary, and she was to speak to ye hersel'. O, ye
needna look sae gash. Did she speak? and what'll you have said
to her?
BRODIE. She has not spoken; I have said nothing; and I believe I
asked you to avoid the subject.
LAWSON. Ay, I made a note o' that observation, William [and
assoilzied mysel']. Mary's a guid lass, and I'm her uncle, and
I'm here to be answered. Is it to be ay or no?
BRODIE. It's to be no. This marriage must be quashed; and hark
ye, Procurator, you must help me.
LAWSON. Me? ye're daft! And what for why?
BRODIE. Because I've spent the trust-money, and I can't refund
it.
LAWSON. Ye reprobate deevil!
BRODIE. Have a care, Procurator. No wry words!
LAWSON. Do you say it to my face, sir? Dod, sir, I'm the Crown
Prosecutor.
BRODIE. Right. The Prosecutor for the Crown. And where did you
get your brandy?
LAWSON. Eh?
BRODIE. Your brandy! Your brandy man! Where do you get your
brandy? And you a Crown official and an elder!
LAWSON. Whaur the deevil did ye hear that?
BRODIE. Rogues all! Rogues all, Procurator!
LAWSON. Ay, ay. Lord save us! Guidsake, to think o' that noo!
. . . Can ye give me some o' that Cognac? I'm . . . . . I'm sort
o' shaken, William, I'm sort o' shaken. Thank you, William!
(LOOKING, PITEOUSLY AT GLASS.) NUNC EST BIBENDUM. (DRINKS.)
Troth, I'm set ajee a bit. Wha the deevil tauld ye?
BRODIE. Ask no questions, brother. We are a pair.
LAWSON. Pair, indeed! Pair, William Brodie! Upon my saul, sir,
ye're a brazen-faced man that durst say it to my face! Tak' you
care, my bonnie young man, that your craig doesna feel the wecht
o' your hurdies. Keep the plainstanes side o' the gallows. VIA
TRITA, VIA TUTA, William Brodie!
BRODIE. And the brandy, Procurator? and the brandy?
LAWSON. Ay . . . weel . . . be't sae! Let the brandy bide, man,
let the brandy bide! But for you and the trust-money . . .
damned! It's felony. TUTOR IN REM SUAM, ye ken, TUTOR IN REM
SUAM. But O man, Deacon, whaur is the siller?
BRODIE. It's gone - O how the devil should I know? But it'll
never come back.
LAWSON. Dear, dear! A' gone to the winds o' heaven! Sae ye're
an extravagant dog, too. PRODIGUS ET FURIOSUS! And that puir
lass - eh, Deacon, man, that puir lass! I mind her such a bonny
bairn.
BRODIE (STOPPING HIS EARS). Brandy, brandy, brandy, brandy,
brandy
LAWSON. William Brodie, mony's the long day that I've believed
in you; prood, prood was I to be the Deacon's uncle; and a sore
hearing have I had of it the day. That's past; that's past like
Flodden Field; it's an auld sang noo, and I'm an aulder man than
when I crossed your door. But mark ye this - mark ye this,
William Brodie, I may be no sae guid's I should be; but there's
no a saul between the east sea and the wast can lift his een to
God that made him, and say I wranged him as ye wrang that lassie.
I bless God,
William Brodie - ay, though he was like my brother - I bless God
that he that got ye has the hand of death upon his hearing, and
can win into his grave a happier man than me. And ye speak to
me, sir? Think shame - think shame upon your heart!
BRODIE. Rogues all!
LAWSON. You're the son