No flocks, nor herds, nor stores of gold, Yet I am rich, if thou art kind, True love alone our hearts shall bind, Sweet, gentle maid, though patient, meek, Ah! raise thy drooping head, and seek SCENE III.—Shelty's House. [Exeunt, R. Enter, from the House, CAPTAIN DASH and SERGEANT JACK. Cap. Ha ha! well, Jack, our success is e'en beyond my expectation. Ser. I've done my best, because I undertook the thing; but under a false hope trepanning the poor fellows from their homes and families!-excuse me, but I can't enjoy the prosperity that's built on the distresses of another. Cap. (c.) Psha! damn your nonsense! What the devil is come to you? This Sandy is--Oh, have you seen his Jenny? Ser. (L. C.) Yes; I've seen her, and I wish she was his. Cap. Wish she was his? Very civil, when you know I love her to distraction-Hey-what's here? Enter MOGGY, R., dressed as a Highlander, with a thin cane in her hand. Mog. (R. C.) I beg your honour's pardon; but hasn't your honour 'listed one Sandy Frazer? Cap. Yes, my lad; and I'll list you too. Ser. Yes; we'll list you, if you are willing. Mog. It's for that I'm come, if you'll take me in my brother's place? Ser. Why, is Sandy your brother? Mog. Yes, Sir, he is; and the eldest of eight little brothers and sisters, not one of them but me able to earn a morsel of bread for themselves-Oh, merciful, good Captain! take me and discharge brother Sandy! Oh! [Cries. Cap. Ha, ha, ha! you young dog! do you think I'll exchange an effective man for such a little whippersnapper as you? Get along, you little monkey! Mog. I am a little monkey-Oh! I shall never be able to maintain the family! Oh! [Cries. Cap. Ha, ha, ha! Why, Jack, [To Sergeant.] here's another opportunity for your sentiment, ha, ha, ha! Ser. Yes; and for your humanity, if you have any. [Walks up. Cup. Humanity! eh!-Go home, my boy [To Moggy. Mog. Sir, I've rais'd a little bit of money here, by selling some of our stock; if this could make up for my deficiency till I gròw bigger Ser. [Advancing.] Hey, money! [Draws her to him. Mog. Yes, sir; if you will accept this forty pounds, and me in the place of my brother Sandy-Oh, worthy, noble gentleman! you'll see what a good fine soldier I'll make in time. Cap. Eh-in-time-[Looks at her.]—forty poundsSer. And this younker will grow taller. Mog. Oh yes, sir, I intend to grow a deal taller. SONG-MOGGY. Though I'm now a very little lad, If fighting-men cannot be had, For want of better I may do To follow the boys with the rat-tat-too I may seem tender, yet I'm tough, And, though not much of me, I'm right good stuff; Of this I'll boast, say more who can, I never was afraid to see my man. Take me now, now, now, A merry little he For your row, dow, dow. Brown Bess I'll knock about, oh, there's my joy! In my tartan plaid a young soldier view, Give the word, and I'll march where you command I'm a chick-a-biddy, Though a barber has never yet mow'd my chin, Oh zounds! how I'll kiss my landlady. &c. I'm a chick-a-biddy, &c. Cap. Ha, ha, ha! Well, my little-tall boy. [Writes in his pocket-book and tears a leaf out, which he gives to Moggy.] Ha, ha, ha! there's your brother Sandy's discharge-I take your forty pounds.-There's a shilling. Mog. A shilling! generous captain! Thank ye, sirthis paper-what a present for my poor Jenny! Ser. Sir, we're lucky rogues! comes to us most à-propos. Cap. What do you mean, fellow? [Aside with joy. This forty pounds [Apart to Captain. We and us! In profit I am solus. [To Moggy.] Now you are the king's man. Mog. And Sandy is his own. Enter SHELTY, and SANDY, as a Recruit, R. Mog. (R.) [Giving Sandy the paper she received from the Captain.] There's your discharge, Sandy; no more the king's, you're now only Jenny's man. Enter JENNY, R. Cap. Hey, the devil! What's all this about! Here, you little busy rascal? [To Moggy.] True, my lad [To Sandy]-as he says, you're free; but I'll order your pert young brother here up to the halberts. San. (R. C.) My-I've no brother! [Points to Moggy. Cap. (c.) Why, dam'me, you little son of a gun! Mog. No, sir; but I happen to be daughter to an old great gun. [Sees Charley coming; and crosses to him. Enter CHARLey, L. Here's my match !-[Takes him by the hand.] And, hey! I'm off like a sky-rocket. [Runs off with Charley, L. Jen. (R.) Sandy, didn't you know her? Cap. Oh, ho! [To Sandy.] I see it now-you have been a confederate in this imposition. San. Totally innocent! Enter LAIRD of RAASEY, L. Laird. (L. c.) [To Captain.] Pray, sir, by whose authority do you list men in this island? Cap. The king, and my colonel. Laird. Who is your colonel? Cap. The owner of this island, my friend, young Bob M'Donald. Laird. Well, this is rather odd; my son a colonel! The first time I ever heard he was even in the army. Cap. Son!-Jack! [To Sergeant.] Zounds! if-Can this be the old laird? Laird. [Seeing Sandy.] Eh! Is't possible? Bob! Laird. What d'ye mean by Sandy? This is my son Robert, ha, ha, ha! your friend, young Bob M'Donald ! Cap. This young Donald!-Confusion! Jack, we are undone! Yes [Apart to Sergeant]; they'll hang us. Ser. [Aloud.] Us! [Mimicks the Captain's former manner.] What do you mean, fellow? In hanging you are solus. Enter M'GILPIN, R. M'Gil. (L. c.) Justice, my laird, on this cursed juggling, conjuring piper, who has struck me dumb as a fish, and without my consent run away with and married my daughter. Enter CHARLEY, leading in MOGGY, in her Highland dress, L. Cha. (L.) [To M'Gilpin.] Sir, give me leave to introduce Captain M'Gilpin! [Presenting Moggy. M'Gil. Moggy! Oh, you brazen face! Hey, turned soldier! Mog. I am, sir; under the command of General Charley he gave the word-'twas love, honour, and obey. Laird. [To Jenny.] Your affections have been proved, and you must both be happy. She. So, I'm a conjurer! These are comical conjurations the tenant is the landlord-the poor orphan is the lady of the land-the captain is no soldier-the sol dier is a woman-the 'prentice is a master-the maste is-nobody-the poor parson is a laird of much land 1 [Looking at them by turns]—and poor Shelty, the Scotch piper, still your humble servant to command. [Bows to them.] And, whether I tap the barrel or tune my chanter-hey! neighbours, neighbours! come, all be merry. let s Ser. To wish the young folks love and joy, 'HORUS. Whisky, Frisky, Dancing! Sorrow kick to Nick the de'il, Mog. My dearest lad, I tell you fairly, Cha. I'm sure, dear lass, you'll govern rarely, |