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Scott, Walter, Sir, 1771-1832

"The Fortunes of Nigel"

By
G--d, a hart of aught tines, and the first of the season! Bash and
Battie, blessings on the heart's-root of ye! Buss me, my bairns, buss
me. "The dogs accordingly fawned upon him, licked him with bloody
jaws, and soon put him in such a state that it might have seemed
treason had been doing its full work upon his anointed body." Bide
doun, with a mischief to ye--bide doun, with a wanion," cried the
king, almost overturned by the obstreperous caresses of the large
stag-hounds. "But ye are just like ither folks, gie ye an inch and ye
take an ell.--And wha may ye be, friend? "he said, now finding leisure
to take a nearer view of Nigel, and observing what in his first
emotion of silvan delight had escaped him,--" Ye are nane of our
train, man. In the name of God, what the devil are ye?"
"An unfortunate man, sire," replied Nigel.
"I dare say that," answered the king, snappishly, "or I wad have seen
naething of you. My lieges keep a' their happiness to themselves; but
let bowls row wrang wi' them, and I am sure to hear of it."
"And to whom else can we carry our complaints but to your Majesty, who
is Heaven's vicegerent over us!" answered Nigel.
"Right, man, right--very weel spoken," said the king; "but you should
leave Heaven's vicegerent some quiet on earth, too."
"If your Majesty will look on me," (for hitherto the king had been so
busy, first with the dogs, and then with the mystic operation of
_breaking_, in vulgar phrase, cutting up the deer, that he had scarce
given his assistant above a transient glance,) "you will see whom
necessity makes bold to avail himself of an opportunity which may
never again occur.


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