to win the game.

Farmer's Son:--

The game, sir, the game, sir! it is not in your power,
I'll cut you into inches in less than half-an-hour.
My head is made of iron, my heart is made of steel,
My sword is a Ferrara that can do its duty weel.

Goloshan:--

My body is like rock, sir, my head is like a stone,
And I will be Goloshan when you are dead and gone.

Enter Wallace:--

Here come I, Sir William Wallace, wight,
Who shed his blood for Scotland's right;
Without a right, without a reason,
Here I draw my bloody weapon.

(_Fights with Goloshan--the latter falls._) Farmer's Son:--

Now that young man is dead, sir, and on the ground is laid;
And you shall suffer for it, I'm very much afraid.

Wallace:--

It was not me that did the deed, nor me that did the crime,
'Twas this young man behind me who drew his sword so fine.

Sir Alexander:--

Oh, you artful villain, to lay the blame on me!
For my two eyes were shut, sir, when this young man did dee.

Wallace:--

How could your eyes be shut, sir, when you were looking on?
How could your eyes be shut, sir, when both the swords were drawn?

Farmer's Son (to Wallace):--

How can you thus deny the deed? As I stood looking on,
You drew your sword from out its sheath, and slashed his body down.

Wallace:--

If I have slain Goloshan, Goloshan I will cure,
And I will make him rise and sing in less than half-an-hour;
Round the kitchen, round the town,
Haste and bring me Dr. Brown.

Dr. Brown enters:--

Here come I, old Dr. Brown, the foremost doctor in the town.

Wallace:--

What makes you so good, sir?

Doctor:--

Why, my travels.

Wallace:--

And where have you travelled?

Doctor:--

From Hickerty-pickerty-hedgehog, three times round the West Indies,
and back to old Scotland.

Wallace:--

Is that all?

Doctor:--

No sir. I have travelled from fireside to chairside, from chairside
to stoolside, from stoolside to tableside, from tableside to bedside,
from bedside to press-side, and got many a lump of bread and butter
from my mother; and that's the way my belly's so big.

Wallace:--

Well, what can you cure?

Doctor:--

I can cure the rurvy-scurvy, and the rumble-gumption of a man who
has been seven years dead or more, and can make an old woman of
sixty look like a girl of sixteen.

Wallace:--

How much would you take to cure this dead man? Would