A TRAGEDY
89
The Lord of Lorne has spoilt thee with indulging
Thy wilful humours. Cease thy cursed din!
See; here the Earl himself comes forth to chide thee. (Exit.)
Enter Argyll, attended, from the Chamber.
ARGYLL.
A younger man might gird his tartans on
With lightsome heart to martial sounds like these,
But I am old.
PIPER.
It is not age subdues you.
ARGYLL.
PIPER.
The wind hath blown away to other towers.
When she was here, and gladsome faces brighten'd
With looking on her, and around your board
Sweet lays were sung, and gallants in the hall
Footed it trimly to our varied measures,
