DAVID AND GOLIAH.

249

Dav. Behold him here!

Gol. Say, where?

Direct my sight. I do not war with boys.

Dav. I stand prepared; thy single arm to mine.
Gol. Why, this is mockery, minion! it may chance
To cost thee dear. Sport not with things above thee;
But tell me who, of all this numerous host,
Expects his death from me?

Which is the man

Whom Israel sends to meet my bold defiance?

Dav. The election of my sovereign falls on me.
Gol. On thee! on thee! by Dagon, 't is too much!
Thou curled minion! thou a nation's champion!

'T would move my mirth at
But trifling's out of tune.
And tempt me not too far.

any other time;
Begone, light boy!
(Crosses to R.)

Dav. (Crosses to L.) I do defy thee, Thou foul idolater! Hast thou not scorned The armies of the living God I serve?

By me He will avenge upon thy head

Thy nation's sins and thine! Armed with His name,
Unshrinking, I dare meet the stoutest foe

That ever bathed his hostile spear in blood.

Gol. Indeed! 't is wondrous well! Now, by my gods!

The stripling plays the orator! Vain boy!

Keep close to that same bloodless war of words,

And thou shalt still be safe. Tongue-valiant warrior!
Where is thy sylvan crook, with garlands hung
Of idle field-flowers? Where thy wanton harp,
Thou dainty-fingered hero?-But I will meet thee,
Thou insect warrior! since thou darest me thus!
Already I behold thy mangled limbs,

Dissevered each from each, ere long to feed
The fierce, blood-snuffing vulture. Mark me well!
Around my spear I'll twist thy shining locks,

And toss in air thy head all gashed with wounds.

Dav. Ha! say'st thou so? Come on, then! Mark us well.

Thou comest to me with sword, and spear, and shield!

In the dread name of Israel's God I come;

The living Lord of hosts, whom thou defiest!

Yet, though no shield I bring, —no arms, except
These five smooth stones I gathered from the brook,
With such a simple sling as shepherds use,-
Yet all exposed, defenseless as I am,
The God I serve shall give thee up a prey

To

my victorious arm. This day I mean

To make the uncircumcised tribes confess
There is a God in Israel. I will give thee,
Spite of thy vaunted strength and giant bulk,
To glut the carrion kites. Nor thee alone;

The mangled carcasses of your thick hosts
Shall spread the plains of Elah; till Philistia,
Through all her trembling tents and flying bands,
Shall own that Judah's God is God indeed!

Enter PA

Scene, DR. GREGORY'S study. A table, C., and chair, R. and L.
TIENT, L., a plump Glasgow merchant. DR. GREGORY discovered reading, R.
Patient. Good-morning, Dr. Gregory! I'm just come into
Edinburgh about some law business, and I thought when I was
here, at any rate, I might just as weel take your advice, sir,
about my trouble.

Doctor. Pray, sir, sit down. (PATIENT sits, L.) And now, my good sir, what may your trouble be?

Pa. Indeed, doctor, I'm not very sure; but I'm thinking it's a kind of weakness that makes me dizzy at times, and a kind of pinkling about my stomach; - I'm just na right.

Dr. You are from the west country, I should suppose, sir?
Pa. Yes, sir, from Glasgow.

Dr. Ay; pray, sir, are you a glutton?

Pa. Heaven forbid, sir! I'm one of the plainest men living in all the west country.

Dr. Then, perhaps, you are a drunkard?

Pa. No, Dr. Gregory; thank Heaven, no one can accuse me of that! I'm of the dissenting persuasion, doctor, and an elder; so you may suppose I'm na drunkard.

Dr. I'll suppose no such thing till you tell me your mode of life. I'm so much puzzled with your symptoms, sir, that I should wish to hear in detail what you do eat and drink. When do you breakfast, and what do you take at it?

Pa. I breakfast at nine o'clock; take a cup of coffee, and one or two cups of tea, a couple of eggs, and a bit of ham or kippered salmon, or, may be, both, if they're good, and two or three rolls and butter.

Dr. Do you eat no honey, or jelly, or jam, at breakfast?
Pa. O, yes, sir! but I don't count that as any thing.

Dr. Come, this is a very moderate breakfast. What kind of a dinner do you make? Some soup,

Pa. O, sir, I eat and some fish, and a

a very plain dinner, indeed. little plain roast or boiled; for I dinna care for made dishes; I think, some way, they never satisfy the appetite.

Dr. You take a little pudding, then, and afterwards some cheese?

Pa. O, yes! though I don't care much about them.

Dr. You take a glass of ale or porter with your cheese?

Pa. Yes, one or the other; but seldom both.

Dr. You west-country people generally take a glass of Highland whiskey after dinner.

Pa. Yes, we do; it's good for digestion.

Dr. Do you take any wine during dinner?

Pa. Yes, a glass or two of sherry; but I'm indifferent as to wine during dinner. I drink a good deal of beer.

Dr. What quantity of port do you drink?

Pa. O, very little; not above half a dozen glasses or so. Dr. In the west-country, it is impossible, I hear, to dine without punch?

Pa. Yes, sir: indeed, 't is punch we drink chiefly; but, for myself, unless I happen to have a friend with me, I never take more than a couple of tumblers or so, and that 's moderate.

Dr. O, exceedingly moderate, indeed! You then, after this slight repast, take some tea and bread and butter?

Pa. Yes, before I go to the counting-house to read the evening letters.

Dr. And on your return you take supper, I suppose? Pa. No, sir, I canna be said to tak supper; just something before going to bed; a rizzered haddock, or a bit of toasted cheese, or a half-hundred of oysters, or the like o' that, and, may be, two thirds of a bottle of ale; but I tak no regular supper.

Dr. But you take a little more punch after that?

Pa. No, sir, punch does not agree with me at bedtime. Y tak a tumbler of warm whiskey-toddy at night; it is lighter to sleep on.

Dr. So it must be, no doubt. This, you say, is your everyday life; but, upon great occasions, you perhaps exceed a little? Pa. No, sir, except when a friend or two dine with me, or I dine out, which, as I am a sober family man, does not often happen.

Dr. Not above twice a week?

Pa. No; not oftener.

Dr. Of course you sleep well, and have a good appetite? Pa. Yes, sir, thank Heaven, I have; indeed, any ill health that I have is about meal-time.

Dr. (Rising with a severe air the PATIENT also rises.) Now, sir, you are a very pretty fellow, indeed! You come here and tell me you are a moderate man; but, upon examination, I find, by your own showing, that you are a most voracious glutton. You said you were a sober man; yet, by your own showing, you are a beer-swiller, a dram-drinker, a wine-bibber, and a guzzler of punch. You tell me you eat indigestible suppers, and swill toddy to force sleep. I see that you chew tobacco. Now, sir, what human stomach can stand this? Go home, sir, and leave your present course of riotous living, and there are hopes that your stomach may recover its tone, and you be in good health, like your neighbors.

Pa. I'm sure, doctor, I'm very much obliged to you. (Taking out a bundle of bank-notes.) I shall endeavor to Dr. Sir, you are not obliged to me: put up your money, sir. Do you think I'll take a fee for telling you what you know as well as myself? Though you're no physician, sir, you are not altogether a fool. Go home, sir, and reform, or, take my word for it, your life is not worth half a year's purchase.

Pa. Thank you, doctor, thank you. Good-day, doctor. (Exit, R., followed by DOCTOR.)

ANON.

XXIV. NORVAL.

Enter first GLENALVON, L.; then NORVAL, R.

The latter seems looking off

at some distant object.

Glenalvon. (Aside.) His port I love: he's in a proper mood

To chide the thunder, if at him it roared. (Aloud.) Has Norval seen the troops?

Norval. The setting sun

With yellow radiance lightened all the vale,
And as the warriors moved, each polished helm,
Corslet, or spear, glanced back his gilded beams.

NORVAL.

The hill they climbed, and, halting at its top,
Of more than mortal size, towering they seemed
A host angelic, clad in burning arms.

Glen. Thou talk'st it well; no leader of our host
In sounds more lofty talks of glorious war.

Norv. If I should e'er acquire a leader's name,
My speech will be less ardent. Novelty

Now prompts my tongue, and youthful admiration
Vents itself freely; since no part is mine

Of praise pertaining to the great in arms.

253

Glen. You wrong yourself, brave sir; your martial deeds Have ranked you with the great. But mark me, Norval, Lord Randolph's favor now exalts your youth

Above his veterans of famous service.

Let me, who know these soldiers, counsel you.
Give them all honor: seem not to command,

Else they will hardly brook your late-sprung power,
Which nor alliance props nor birth adorns.

Norv. Sir, I have been accustomed, all my days,
To hear and speak the plain and simple truth;
And though I have been told that there are men
Who borrow friendship's tongue to speak their scorn,
Yet in such language I am little skilled ;
Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel,
Although it sounded harshly. Why remind
Me of my birth obscure? Why slur my power
With such contemptuous terms?

Glen. I did not mean

To gall your pride, which now I see is great.
Norv. My pride!

Glen. Suppress it, as you wish to prosper;
Your pride's excessive. Yet, for Randolph's sake,
I will not leave you to its rash direction.

If thus you swell, and frown at high-born men,
Will high-born men endure a shepherd's scorn?
Norv. A shepherd's scorn! (Crosses, L.)
Glen. (R.) Yes, if you presume

To bend on soldiers those disdainful eyes
As if you took the measure of their minds,
And said in secret, You 're no match for me,

What will become of you?

Norv. Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self?

Glen. Ha! dost thou threaten me?

Norv. Didst thou not hear?