Nay, excuse the covetousness of an Antiquary, my dear sir; I well
know that nothing I could offer were worth a tithe of your
priceless discovery, the oldest printed Scots Ballad extant. It
shall suffice for me to look on it, under the roof of Mainsforth,
when next I make a raid across the Border. I have conquered my
passions, and can obey the last of the Commandments. Haud equiden
invideo, minor magis. I need not bid you be watchful of your
booty.--Yours most faithfully,
JONATHAN OLDBUCK.
From Robert Surtees, Esq., to Jonathan Oldbuck, Esq.
June 11.
My Dear Sir,--Alas, your warning comes too late. An accursed
example of womankind, fit descendant of that unhappy Betty Barnes,
cook to Mr. Warburton, who destroyed his ancient manuscript plays,
hath invaded my sanctum, and the original black-letter text of the
ballad has gone to join Shakspeare's "Stephen" and "Henry II." She
hath lit with it my study fire, and it is fortunate indeed that I
had made the copy of the ballad for you. But the volume of
Coquillart is alive to testify to the authenticity of the poem;
which, after all, is needless evidence, as not even Ritson could
suspect of either the skill or the malice of such a forgery, Yours
most faithfully,
ROBERT SURTEES.
LETTER: From Nicholas to the Editor of the St. James's Gazette,
It is only too probable that a later generation has forgotten
"Nicholas," the sporting Prophet of "Fun," in the reign of Mr.
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