XXIII. 'A BALLET SHEWING HOW A DUMB WYFF WAS MAID TO SPEIK.' THE folio Maitland MS. in the Pepysian Library, contains a fragment of the following humorous tale;1 and a less imperfect copy occurs in one of Bishop More's MSS. in the University Library, Cambridge. The stanzas in the latter MS. having been awkwardly transposed by the writer, both copies are made use of in order that this ballad might be given in its most perfect state. [There are, however, some deficiencies which have been ingeniously supplied by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Esq.] The incident on which this story is founded might be traced back through a long series of writers of various nations, both in prose and verse. The original of the present tale may perhaps be found in one of the numerous French fabliaux, which doubtless were well known at an early period in Scotland, owing to the great intercourse which subsisted between the two nations. Part of a vulgar Scotish ballad of a similar kind, which never seems to have been printed, is still remembered. The husband takes his wife to a Surgeon 'to cure her of the dumb, dumb, dumb,' who, by cutting the strings of her tongue, brings her faculties of speech to a pretty tolerable Ll. 5.-84. consistency: '—or rather, enables her to rattle with her tongue, tongue, tongue,' at such a rate, that the poor man is fain to apply a second time for assistance, and beg of the doctor to make her dumb again. Instead of pointing out some remedy, or even answering him as we might suppose him to do, like Sganarelle, in the admirable Comedy of Le Medecin malgré lui, on a similar application,— "That's impossible, sir: all that I can do to serve you, is, I can make you deaf, if you please," he is so malicious as to say, like the Devil in the following tale, that though it is an easy matter to make a woman speak, it is beyond the skill of all the Doctors in the land afterwards to silence her. XXIII. 'The Dumb Wyff.' [THAIR dwelt a larde in Fyffe (Sic menne ar countit madde) Quha weddit ane gude-wyffe Ritche, dumb, and wondirous sadde ;]' Quhan wthair wyfes war glaid Scho sat, and nothing said; And comfort nane could kyth. That deiplie he did sweir, That he forthoucht, That he had brocht, Ane dum wyff hame for geir. And so wpone ane day, He went alone to pance; So met he in his way Ane greit grim man be chance: 1 1 The beginning of this poem has been lost, but only four lines in the first stanza appear to be wanting; they have been supplied by C. K. Sharpe, Esq. Quhilk fast at him did fraine Quhat angwisch, greiff, or paine, He bad him schaw And lat him knaw, Of all his grief the ground- Haif he na dreid, Gif remeid micht be found. 20 25 Than he declairis cleir Is turnit to noy; He wist him self war deid. Quod he agane, "Tak na disdane, And I sall find remeid. Gif thow will counsall keip, Of speikeine thow sall find; 30 35 40 45 50 |