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Updated: June 28, 2025
But first, I would advise thee to bethink Thyself, how sin hath laid thee at the brink Of hell, where thou art lulled fast asleep In Satan's arms, who also will thee keep As senseless and secure as e'er he may, Lest thou shouldst wake, and see't, and run away Unto that Jesus, whom the Father sent Into the world, for this cause and intent, That such as thou, from such a thrall as this Might'st be released, and made heir of bliss.
Davy Spink, who found it, tried in vain to read the writing; Davy's education had been neglected, so he was fain to confess that he could not make it out. "Let me see't," said Swankie. "What hae we here? `The sloop is hard an an " "`Fast, maybe," suggested Spink. "Ay, so 'tis. I canna make out the next word, but here's something about the jewel-case."
Eh! it's bonnie, woman; and I wiss ye had the sicht o' yer een to see't wi'; though ye do preten' to think little o' 't." "Weel, weel! my time's comin', Thamas; and I maun jist bide till it comes. Ye canna help me, I see that. Gin I could only open my een for ae minute, I wad ken a' aboot it, and be able to answer mysel'. I think we 'll gang into the hoose, for I canna bide it langer."
"Hout, tout, man," said Francie, "the Earl will look at nae petitions but I can gie't to the almoner." "But it relates to some secret, that maybe my lord wad like best to see't himsell." "I'm jeedging that's the very reason that the almoner will be for seeing it the first and foremost." "But I hae come a' this way on purpose to deliver it, Francis, and ye really maun help me at a pinch."
As for me, I cultivate an obsolete mood the old-fashioned humor of melancholy. I don't suppose now that a light-hearted, French kind of chap like you can understand, in the least, what those fine, crusty old Elizabethans meant when they wrote, 'There's naught in this life sweet, If man were wise to see't, But only melancholy. This noisy generation has lost their secret.
All. Take him off! Man. This hand stabbd him. Mac. Where? Man. Neere St. Germains In Paris, in a darke night, & then I fled. Mac. Thy owne tongue is thy Judge; take him away: To-morrow looke to dye: send him a Confessour. Jay. Ile have a holy care of him. Hen. Who's now, my lords, the Villaine? Enter Eleonora & Buzzano. Ele. Oh Justice, here's a witnesse of my Rape. Mac. Did you see't, sirra?
Buz. See't! no, sir, would I had; but when she was in labour I heard her cry out "helpe! helpe!" & the Gamboll being ended she came in like a mad woman, ruffled & crumpled, her haire about her eares; & he all unbrac'd, sweating as if he had bene thrashing; & afterwards he told me, my lords, that he had downe diddled her. Hen.
But eh! to see that puir negleckit bairn o' his rin scoorin' aboot the toon yon gait wi' little o' a jacket but the collar, an' naething o' the breeks but the doup eh, wuman! it maks a mither's hert sair to luik upo' 't. It's a providence 'at his mither's weel awa' an' canna see't; it wad gar her turn in her grave." George was the first arrival at Mistress Croale's that night.
"What's that meowlin?" asked Bruce the next morning, the moment he rose from the genuflexion of morning prayers. "It's my kittlin'," answered Annie. "I'll lat ye see't." "We hae ower mony mou's i' the hoose already," said Bruce, as she returned with the little peering baby-animal in her arms. "We hae nae room for mair.
All I ken is that I thought the voice fair-spoken, and I alloo it was a daft-like thing to do, but I pu'ed the bar, I had nae sooner dune't nor I was gripped by the thrapple and kep' doon by a couple o' the blackguards that held me a' the time the ither three or four were " Doom caught him by the collar and shook him angrily. "Ye lie, ye Fife cat; I see't in your face!"
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