Part 20 (1/2)

”Kess,” roared the company.

_Chorus, led by Flucker._ ”Hurraih!”

_Christie (pathetically)._ ”Flucker, behave!”

_Sandy Liston (drunk)._ ”Hur-raih!” He then solemnly reflected. ”Na!

but it's na hurraih, decency requires amen first an' hurraih afterward; here's kissin plenty, but I hear nae word o' the minister. Ye'll obsairve, young woman, that kissin's the prologue to sin, and I'm a decent mon, an' a gray-headed mon, an' your licht stories are no for me; sae if the minister's no expeckit I shall retire--an' tak my quiet gill my lane.”

_Jean Carnie._ ”And div ye really think a decent c.u.mmer like Custy wad let the lad and la.s.s misbehave thirsels? Na! lad, the minister's at the door, but” (sinking her voice to a confidential whisper) ”I daurna let him in, for fear he'd see ye hae putten the enemy in your mooth sae aerly. (That's Custy's word.)”

”Jemmy Drysel,” replied Sandy, addressing vacancy, for Jemmy was mysteriously at work in the kitchen, ”ye hae gotten a thoughtfu' wife.”

(Then, with a strong revulsion of feeling.) ”Dinna let the blackguard*

in here,” cried he, ”to spoil the young folk's sporrt.”

* At present this is a spondee in England--a trochee in Scotland The p.r.o.nunciation of this important word ought to be fixed, representing, as it does, so large a portion of the community in both countries.

_Christie._ ”Aweel, la.s.sies, comes a letter to Ba.s.sanio; he reads it, and turns as pale as deeth.”

_A Fishwife._ ”Gude help us.”

_Christie._ ”Poorsha behooved to ken his grief, wha had a better reicht?

'Here's a letter, leddy,' says he, 'the paper's the boedy of my freend, like, and every word in it a gaping wound.'”

_A Fisherman._ ”Maircy on us.”

_Christie._ ”Lad, it was fra puir Antonio, ye mind o' him, La.s.ses. Hech!

the ill luck o' yon man, no a s.h.i.+p come hame; ane foundered at sea, coming fra Tri-po-lis; the pirates scuttled another, an' ane ran ash.o.r.e on the Goodwins, near Bright-helm-stane, that's in England itsel', I daur say. Sae he could na pay the three thoosand ducats, an' Shylock had grippit him, an' sought the pund o' flesh aff the breest o' him, puir body.”

_Sandy Liston._ ”He would na be the waur o' a wee bit hiding, yon thundering urang-utang; let the man alane, ye cursed old cannibal.”

_Christie._ ”Poorsha keepit her man but ae hoor till they were united, an' then sent him wi' a puckle o' her ain siller to Veeneece, and Antonio--think o' that, la.s.sies--pairted on their wedding-day.”

_Lizzy Johnstone, a Fishwife, aged 12._ ”Hech! hech! it's lamentable.”

_Jean Carnie._ ”I'm saying, mairriage is quick wark, in some pairts--here there's an awfu' trouble to get a man.”

_A young Fishwife._ ”Ay, is there.”

_Omnes._ ”Haw! haw! haw!” (The fish-wife hides.)

_Christie._ ”Fill your taupsels, lads and la.s.ses, and awa to Veneece.”

_Sandy Liston (st.u.r.dily)._ ”I'll no gang to sea this day.”

_Christie._ ”Noo, we are in the hall o' judgment. Here are set the judges, awfu' to behold; there, on his throne, presides the Juke.”

_Flucker._ ”She's awa to her Ennglish.”

_Lizzy Johnstone._ ”Did we come to Veeneece to speak Scoetch, ye useless fule?”

_Christie._ ”Here, pale and hopeless, but resigned, stands the broken mairchant, Antonio; there, wi scales and knives, and revenge in his murderin' eye, stands the crewel Jew Shylock.”