? 5317 W5 M4 Dpy 1 /Jlay^ti oi cJcol'Lajidi UL jDraiiict r m MAM^ ®w m®TmAmm^^ THE HEIR OF AVENEL. JN THREE ACTS. FOUNDED ON THE POPULAR NOVEL OF "THE ABBOT, 1nd originally performed at the Theairc. Ntio- Yorkj isUh universal ap/lavse. PUBLISHED BY HENRY I. M20AREY, 96, BROADWAV. W. Grf.ttan. Printer. 1321. Southern District of New-Yorh, ^s. BE IT REMEMBERED, That on the twenty-third day of May, in the foitv-flfth year of the Independence of the United States of America, HENRY I. MEGAREY, of the said District, have depo- sited in this Office, the title of a Booli, the right whereof he clcums as proprietor, in the words following, to wit: Mary of Scotland, or the Heir of Avenel. A Drama, in three acts. Founded on the popular novel ot 'The Abbot," and originally per- formed at the Theatre, New-York, with universal applause. In covfnrmity to the Act of Congress of the United States, enti- tled, •' An Act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the ♦* copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of " such copies, during the times therein mentioned ;" And also, to an Act, entitled, " An Act, supplementary to an Act, entitled, an Act « for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of ** maps, charts, and ooofvs, to the authors and proprietors of such •* copies, during the times tlierein meiitioned, and extending the be- « nefits thereof t« the arts of designing, engiaving, and etching his- « loricai and other prints." G. L. THOMPSON, Clerk of the Southern District of New- York. p.m. I S>oo ■4 PREFACE. The following piece was hastily sketched with a view to determine how far the pro- gressive interest, and diffused action, of *' The Abbot" could be concentrated so as to produce dramatic effect, and also to as- certain the disposition of the public to en- courage indigenous efforts. Hov/ever the author may have succeeded in the former of these objects, the issue of the attempt has proved that, if so few American plays are exhibited on the stage, the cause is not so much to be sought for in the dearth of pat- ronage, as in the absence or indolence of that genius which is necessary to call it into action. The success of "Mary of Scot- land," on its first representation, was uni- versal and unequivocal, and this auspicious result will induce a series of dramatic pro- ductions from the same pen, so long as they may be warranted by the kindness of mana- gers and the pubhc. To Mr. Simpson, the acting manager, whose ready acquiescence in every sugges- tion received new value from the gentle- manly politeness by which it was accompa- IV I'RErACE. iiied, the author owes much for that atten- tion to the stage arrangements, without which no drarna can he made effective. The performers, generally, are entitled to the thanks of the author for the earnestness with which, amidst an extraordinary pres- sure of demands on their time and talents, they applied themselves to the task of ob- taining their several parts. Mr. Maywood's personation of Roland Gramme perfectly em- bodied the author's conception of the cha- racter. It was chaste, natural, and effec- tive, the usual features of that gentleman's performance. Mr. Maywood is a poetical actor, and can enter into a poet's feelings ; and to the friends of correct taste and un- affected nature it must be a source of in- creasing gratification, that his style is be- coming daily more and more understood and estimated, and promises fair to put down that system of drawling declamation and sordid trickery which has so long imposed on mankind. Mr. Simpson's Douglas was eminently true. Mrs. Barnes looked, moved, and spoke the interesting Mary with prodigious effect; and Miss Johnson, in the lively and lovely Catherine, was all that could be wished. Kcw'York^ May 21, 1821. PROLOGUE. WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR. Another novelty ! Nay — pray be civil ; I'm sure you can't think novelty an evil. Though, in good truth, so sickly is the town. That novelty itself will scarce go down — Have we not brought out tragedies by scores, To draw dear patron:!ge within our doors — Wallace, Mirandola, and next, to cram Your sated appetites, a melo-drame ? — They did bat little — pathos, point, and passion The stage and all its arts were out of fashion. Once more we try — for stiil, in reason's spite, Actors must strut and storm, and bards must write. Once more we struggle, 'ere the season ends, To mend our prospects and increase our friend.?. No scenic pageantry, nor tragic might. Assists the eftorts of our baid to-night. No pomp of verse, nor sophistries profound, Nor rank ideas heated into sound — A tale of other lands and other times, Of sovereigns' wrongs and politicians' crimes Our drama shows, and if our feeble stage Revive the memory of that olden age. And cause again those frequent tears to flow W'hich generous eyes have wept for Mary's woe, We cry content, and greet the welcome cause Which brings once more your presence and applause. PROLOGUE. W^RITTEN BY A FRIEND, AND SPOKEN BY MRS. BARNES. To brilliant eyfs, that love to read, And feeling hearts, that pant and bleed O'er the wild scenes of mortal strife — ■ Drawn by the pencil to the life — A mys'tic genius waves his pen, , And days long fled, come back again. In mountain Scotia's classic land, The bold Unknowi* uplifts his wand. And waving, as the scene's unfurl'd. Throws his Enchantment o'er a world. Lo ! through the twihghl of the past, • What airy forms are coming fast? Spirits come — and spirits go — There's Jenny Dean and Ivanhoe ! Rob Roy, and all his clans appear, The battle's din assails our ear — Swift from the hills — where the wild deer are grazing^ Down from the crag — where the beacon is blazing — • " While war steeds are bounding, ** And trumpets are sounding — They stand to their arms ! and they march in good order; As the bonny blue bonnets come over the Border. " Soldiers and knights appear in dread array — " Bearing wild war and havoc in their way : " Nobles and statesmen of the ancient time, " Castles and banners fill the scene sublime ; *' Heroes and queens, as called by him, revive, *' And all the illustrious dead's again alive. Drawn from tl)ese magic scenes — the play to night Faints Mary— -Queen of Scotland's hapless flight; Vlll PROLOGUE. " That queen whose youthful beauty, so 'tis said, " Fired many lovers' hearts, and turn'd their head- " And, sadder still, a truth to all well known " At last, poor hapless creature, turned her own. Yet who that sees this splendid, bright-eyed queen Cag-ed in a Castle, on Loch Leven's Green, In darkness, watching from her prison-grate The signal lights that tell her coming fate ; Or, when the battle's lost, she waves her hand And faintly cries — " Good night my native land," Feels not the witchery of her dazzling charms, And doubly shares in all her hopes alarms. By that fountain — on the mountain — JSear yon shade of Holly-Green, Lowly bending — slow descending — A mystic form in vVhite is seen. Spirit of tlie Chrjstal well! Shade of lofty 'Menel! O'er all our drama breaihe thy charm awhile, That we, this night, may win— our Patron's smile. Oh ! let it not be said the opening bloom Of native genius withers here in gloom j *< Rouse up the town — revive the drooping heart " Of the true votaries to the scenic art ; Support our author's, and our drama's cause, Send us rich houses, and your full applaufe. EPILOGUE. CATHARINE SEYTON, ROLAND GR.EME, AND ADAM WOODCOCK, Roland, (as he enters) Cowards and slaves! Had there been ten to one, To parley and cry " terms," were basely done ! By my good sword .idam . Nay, master dear, be quiet : It is not decent here to make a riot, Rol. Well then, good Adam, since our toils are past, And this fair dame consents Caih. Not quite so fast I A word or two friend Adam, — tell the truth — You've known this scape-grace from his early youth ; What are the creature's points, as jockies say : — Rol. Nay, Catharine ! Hark ye, knave ! Caih. I'll have my way — So prithee, page, be still His head, good Adam — Adam. For ever running into quarrel?, madam. Rol. Sirvah, your head shall suffer. Cath. Aye, indeed ! But not while I stand by. Adam, proceed — Freakish, no doubt.- — Wild as an uabroke colt.' Jdam. He broke my head, my lady ! — Rol. Silence, dolt ! .idam. Nay, sir, you know you did ! — because, forsooth Touching hawk's diet I declared the truth. Cath. He can't deny it, Adam ! — Rol. Heaven forbid ! .Warn. Mj tell-tale poll would poze you if you did. EPILOGUE. Ral. Forget it, Adam ! — if my youth was wild, Charge not to man the follies of the child. Thou lovest me well, and shall be falconer still. Adnm. And feed the hawks, good sir, which way I will, Rol. Just as thou wilt ; and have no future fears ; Thy rights shall all be sacred — and thy ears ! And now, fair lady — Calh. kye, Sir Choleric, now ! Rol. ]Nay, let no frown obscure that angel brow. 'Twere a bad precedent to night, for see How many brows might catch that frown from thee. Cath. Well, here's my hand — the Author else may say We stood here quibbling till we damn'd the play. And now, good Critics, if a woman's prayer Can move your stern philosophy to spare, Decide with charity, — our anxious bard, If you refuse to smile, reaps no reward. Adam. Now let me speak, and, with your pardon. Madam ! — I can do much ; most folks are fond of Adam ! — If you approve the drama, kindly greet it, And fill the hoiwe, kind friends, when we repeat it. DRAMATIS PERSON^li, Lord Lindesay, .... Mr. Morelaad. Lord Ruthven, .... Bancker. iord Seyton . . _ - Anderson. Sir Halbert Glendinning^, - - Reed. Father Ambrose, - - - - WoodhuU. Roland Gramme, - - . - Maywood. George Douglas, - . - - Simpson. Adam Woodcock, - - - - Kilner. Luke Lundin, - - - - Barnes. Wingate, Spiller. Veniam, Nexsen. Lords, Officers, Peasants, Lc. Queen Mary, . . . - , Mrs. Barnes. Lady Lochleven, . - - . Kilner. Lady Fleming, .--.., Miss Bellinger. Catharine Seyton, _ . . . Johnson. Magdalen GrjEine, . - - - Mrs. Baldwin, Mrs. Lilias, Parker. White Lady of Avenel, - . - Miss Jones. SCENE.— SCOTLAND. The lines marked with in\ erted commas, arc omitted m the representation. ACT. I. SCENE I. — Steward's Room in Avenel Castle. WiNGATE and Mrs. Liljas, sitting at a table with wine and tweetmeais. Adam Woodcock at a little distance^ nursing Ids leg and sing" Mrs. Lilias. {sipping her wine.) Well, Master Wingate, thank heaven we have got rid of this Roland Grsenie at last ! We may now take our drop of Canary in peace ; so here's to his good journey ! Wingate. Amen ! Yet I wish him no ill, not I. Mrs. L. He's gone like a wild duck as he came; no lowering of bridges, nor pacing of causeways for him. Adam Woodcock, rocking in his chair and singing. " The Friars of Fail drank berry-brown ale, " The best that ere was tasted ; " The Monks of Melrose made gude kale, " On Fridays when they fastjed." Mrs. L. Heyday, Adam, "what fashes you man ?'* Won't you take a glass, and drink a merry journey to the saucy loon who knocked 1 ^: MARY you into th^ cistern for maintaining that thr hawks* should feed on unwashed flesh ? Adam, singing, « Saint Morance sister, Th£ gray priest kist her — Fiend save the company • 6ing hey trix, Trim go trix, Under the g;reenwood tree.** Mrs, L, Heaven save us ! Why the man's Haft or deaf! Did I take the trouble to make •all this mischief between my Lady and Roland, because of the blow he gave you, and now you refuse to show a little decent gratitude, by mak- ing merry with us at the churl's departure. Adam, singing, "From haunted spring and grassy rinj, Troop, gobhn, elf, and fairy" — rU tell you what it is, Mrs. Lilias — may be he did hit me a rough blow, and may be I would rather have taken it from him than a rough word from another, for he had a good notion of fal- conry, though he did stand up for washing the meat for the eyasses. Dang it, I'm a York- shireman, and have no memory for old sores ! I see no great cause for merriment at his depar- ture. Win, Thou art correctly sagacious, Adam, and sagaciously correct. Those who have lived msJoDg in great families as I have, will be in no OF SCOTLANB. o hurry to rejoice at any thing. And for Roland Graeme, though he may be a good riddance, what says the Scotch proverb, Mrs Lilias — " Sel- dom comes a better !" Mrs. L. " Seldom comes a better," indeed. I say, never can come one half so bad. He might have been the ruin of our poor dear mis- tress, body and soul, (pjiis a handkerchief to her tyes) and estates too, for she spent more coin on his apparel, than on any four servants about her ; and he had very nigh brought papistric among us, for what should I sea in his room but a string of gold beads ! I promise you — aves and credos both .' I seized on them like a fal- con, and here they are. Adam, sin^s, «' And the kelpie must flit from the black-bog pit, " And the brownie must not tarry." " Right proper, popish beads they are," and such as I have seen with Father Ambrose, only these are more precious. IFiTi. They may weigh four ounces of fine gold. I pray heaven there may not be the trou- ble about them that there was, in time of oli, about the black volume with the clasps. Mrs. L, Eh, Master Wingate, what was that? Win. Why, have you never heard, Mrs. L> lias, of the old tradition in the family, of tLe White Lady of Avenel, and the mysterious book t Adam, (aside) Now the old steward's on his hobby, and the waiting- worn an as eager for a tale, as an unhooded falcon for a flight. 4 MARY Mrs. L. (looking round her fearfully) Never, Master Wingate. jri7i. It is believed that the right heir of this castle is alive, and until he gains his right, the spirit of the house of Avenel will not lie at rest. But you shall hear. When Sir Halbert was a boy, the White Lady appeared to him, as she had previously done to Philip the Sacristan, and Father Eustace, the sub-prior, afterwards Abbot of Kennaquhair, who both attempted to steal a book from our lady's mother, for the which the Sacristan got a sound ducking, and the sub-prior was knocked from his horse, and the book, in both cases, was returned. Adam. I doubt me much whether she will take the same trouble to win back the gold beads ; seeing that neither bead nor cowl could protect the two fathers from her vengeance. Win. I would have you to dispose of them straightway, Mrs. Lilias, to prevent accidents. Mrs. L. They shall misguide no more poor souls, for I'll have them melted into a pair of shoe-buckles. I would not wear the Pope's trinkets one inch above my in-step, were they diamonds instead of gold. I thought what would come of Father Ambrose sneaking about the castle every day. Jdam. Hush, Mrs. Lilias, Father Ambrose is our master's brother, and Sir Halbert loves him next to our mistress, although they disagree in religion. JFin. And I verily believe there may be worse folks than Father Ambrose, though he is a^ Mrs. L. I wonder where you'll find them : OF SCOTLAND. & but I believe, Mr. Wingate, if one were to speak, to you about the devil himself, you would say there were worse people than Satan. Win. Assuredly, I might say so, if I saw Sa- tan at my elbow. M7's, L. (starting and screaming) Lord bless us ! I wonder you can take pleasure in frighten- ing one thus .' Adam, sings, " To Limbo Lake « Their way they take, « With scarce the pith to flee." Win. I did not mean to frighten you, Mrs. Li- lias ; but listen, and you, Adam, come nearer. The Monk party are down for the present^ but who knows how long that present will last ? If Queen Mary should come in again, down goes the Earl of Murray, our master's patron, and down goes our master himself, and who so like to mount into his saddle as Father Ambrose. — The Pope may release him from his vows, and we should then have Sir Edward the soldier, in- stead of Ambrose the priest. Now do you un- derstand why I suffered the Monk to have fre- quent conferences with Roland Graeme ? Adam, sings. " Sing hey g« trix, *' Trim go trix, " Under the greenwood tree.'^ Mrs, If. What, Master Wingate, havfi you 1* 6 MARY eaten my mistress's bread, not to say my mas- ter's, who is himself base-born, and owes all to my lady, for so many years, that you could live to think of her being dispossessed of her own Castle of Avenel by a Monk, who is not a drop's blood t© her, by way of relation Though a woman, I would try if my rock or his cowl were better metal first. Win. Not so loud, Mrs. Lilias, not so loud. I only spoke of peradventures. But I have a choice bottle of Canary in ray private closet, full sixteen years old, and if you will go and taste it, we will talk further of this matter, and drink to our Lady of Avenel. Mrs. L. That I will. Master Wingate, and may she never want a faithful major-domo like you, nor an affectionate waiting-woman — Win, Like Mistress LiHas. Well imagined. [Exeunt Wingate and Mrs. Lilias. Adam, sin^s. « To Limbo Lake « Their way they take"— To the devil with you both — one for as arrant a mischief-maker as ever put pin in a lady's ruff, and the other for as time-serving a rascal as ever kept the key of a wine cellar. I'll take my falcon, and away after Mr. Roland; mayhap he may want a little money, and Pre thirty good Harry groats in my pouch, which he shall share with me To be sure he struck me, but I can't be like some of the Scots, who can be fair and false, and wait their time, and keep their mind. OP SCOTLAND. J as they say, to themselves, and touch pot and flagon with you, and hunt and hawk with you, and after all, when lime serves, pay off some old feud with the point of the dagger. I can't bear malice against him, for though nobody knows who begot him, and he has a spice of the devil in his disposition, he always had a kind heart, and a proud spirit far above his station. [Exit, singing, " And rather would Allan in dung^eon lie, " Than live at large where the falcon can't fly ; <* And Allan would rather be in Sexton's pound> " Than live where he follow'd not the merry hawk and hound." SCENE. — Interior of the Monastery of St. Mary's. Distant voices cJiaunting a requiem. A knoching at the gate of the Monastery — the chaunt ceases. Enter Father Ambrose, foUoived by Veniabi. Father A. What hand profane disturbs tlie solemn mass, ^nd bids the requiem pause ? Good Vcniam, to the gate. [Exit Veniarn. A herald, perhaps ; some greedy heretic Charged with unhallowed power. Too well we know Ambitious Morton's views— the fiefs— the rights- 8 MARY All temporalities of Kennaquhair, To feed a brother's lust. Oh f sacred mother. Avert the ruin from thy holy shrine. ** Let not the impious arm of secular pride " Lay waste thine altar, nor from drunken feasts " The red debasing draught defile the tombs, ** And mingle with the reliques of thy children." Enter Veniam. Ven. A wandering brother of our faith. Father A. Admit him. [Exit Veniam. A cell among the ruins, and a seat To share the scanty board which crafty fraud. And loftier violence have deign'd to leave us, Are our's to profier still. Re-enter Veniam and Douglas disguised as a Monk. Exit Veniam. Father A. Welcome, brother. (Douglas sud- denly throws open hisfriar^s habit, and discovers himself.) Do my eyes deceive me ? Has aught befel the queen ? Speak, gallant Douglas. Doug. Thank heaven ! the sacrilegious hand of treason Has not profaned as yet that sanctuary " In which seraphic sweetness, dignity, " Grace, beauty, love, incomparable wit, " Associate with a mind of matchless worth, *^ Blend all their properties.'- Father A. Remains she still — Boug. Lochleven's prisoner ! Watch and ward kept round her, OF SCOTLAND. V ^' On the mann'd walls the itiounted culverins, " And sordid spies, like base obnoxious reptiles, " Crawling about her steps." Oh ! it galls me sore To see a mother of the Douglas race Playing the gaoler's part. Father A. Lady Lochleven hates the queen. Doug Too well I kno'.v't good Ambrose — Before Mar's daughter married with a Douglas (Oh that this tongue should dwell upon her frailty !) By the beguiling vows of perjur'd James Won to his lewd desires^ — why should I dwell on it ? You know the Regent Murray was the fruit. While Mary, springinjy from a lawful bed, W^hen James, forgetful of his former plight, Took to his arms a Guise, not for herself, But for her envied mother's better fortune Is hated by the Douglas mother. Father A. The queea's religion too ! The Lady Douglas Holds faith with those whose persecuting fury Has made the Virgin's altars desolate, O'erthrown our saints, our convent lands seques- ter'd — Doug. Father, enough of this! The queen shall find There is a Douglas yet in whose warm breast Faith, loyalty and love — for who can dwell Within the vortex of those heavenly graces, And still retain the mastery of his soul — Struggle for freer scope and enterprize Equal to their devotion. Now to my business / 10 aiARY The plan of Mary's friends to break her thralage. Cath, And what accomplishments Obtained you there r 1 dearly love to know What, in the hour of need, my friends can do. Rol. 1 can back horse, and hollow to a hound, Wield lance and bow and brand, — and fly a hawk ! Cath. And thus you proved the qualities of page ! PtoL Some (e\v exploits besides, fair gentle- woman I hunted cats, shot swans, frightened the maids, Chas'd deer, and robb'd the orchard : and now and then, Like a good Catholic, plagued the castle chap- lain. Cath, Why have you left such service ? Rol. Fair lady ! I could not brook the vulgar insolence Of serving men and maids. They tnunted me, Called me a foundling — child of charity — A water drake — wrought up to fury, This morn, I drew my dfiggex on a knave Who callM me churl-born : the brightness of tie blade Alarm'd the paltroon, and away he ran With all the buttery minions at his heels OF SCOTLAND. 21 Strait to the lady's chamber: r>lie was anger'd— I too proud to bend, and so we parted ! Cath. Where met you Sister Magdalen ? Rot. In this cell, Where accident had brought me. Now, fair maiden, Your name and history ? Cath. I am an orphan ; My name is Catharine Seyton ; and my story The counterpart ofyour's. Dame Bridget is — Rol. Your grandmother ? Cath. VV^orse, ten times worse than that — My maiden aunt. I too was tried at service ! RgI. And speedily was turn'd adrift, I doubt not, For pinching the duenna, or affronting My lady's waiting woman I Cath. Nay, not so ! Our mistress had no more occasion for us ; She gave up housekeeping. Few ladies were there Who had more gentlewomen under her ; Or kept a stricter discipline ; — long prayers, Light food, and late and early labour — Rol. Out on the old pernicious beldame ! Cath. For heaven's sake, hold your tongue ! The holy Saints Forgive me ! Saint Catharine of Sienna — She was the dame I spoke of, and a convent The mansion ; it contained twelve nuns. Rol. And you were one ? Where are the rest t Cath. With the last winter's snow; the hur- ricane, East, west, north, south, has scatter'd them abroad, X.'2 MAR5r I know not whither ! RoL Well, and this enterprise Which claims your energies and mine. What is it? CotJi, Alas ! — But here comes Magdalen. Enter Magdalen Graeme, hastily* Mag. (advancing hcticeen them) So ! Have you well surveyed each other's features ? Traced every line — conversed with every tone — Become familiar with each other's step — And every motion of the eye and hand Read and rehearsed — so, in whate'er disguise You may hereafter meet, your penetration May not be baflled ? Answer, Roland Grsemel Wilt thou this maiden recognise, wherever, Or whensoever, thou shall meet her ? Rol, Fear not I No time nor circumstance can wither The freshness of her portrait in my heart. Mag. And thou, my daughter, wilt thou bear in memory The features of this youth ? Cath. Truly, my mother, I have not seen so nmny men of late, That I should soon for,:^et him ; tho' I mark Not much about him lo icserve remembrance. Mag. Embrace and part then ! Now, my daughter, hence ! All is prepared : this night, our pious sister Departs with thee for Edinburgh. Away ! [Exit. Catharine^ interchanging silent adieus mith Roland. OF SCOTLAND. 23 RoL And whither do we go ? Mag. To Kennaquhair ? A hundred steps will bring us to the Abbey. RoL And whither thence? Mag. Where heaven commands thy steps, And I conduct thee ! Owest thou me so little, That thus with niggard and reluctant wiil, Thou yieldest obedience ? RoL I forget not, mother, How much I owe thee; and the life thou nursed'st, To thee most freely I devote ! The world Hath not a desart nor a danger in it I would not brave to do thy pleasure. " But *' Allow my reason some participation " In my obedience ! Mag. " Holy Saints and Angels ! " Have I knelt by thy bed, and wearied heaven *' With prayers for thee, and thou refusest now " To do ray bidding ! Hear me, ungrateful boy ! " Restst the lot which calls thee if thou wilt, " And go thy way — leave me — my hopes are withered ! " Before yon ravaged altar I will kneel, " Till in its socket the spent lamp of Hfe " Shall shroud its latest glimmer !" RoL " But, my mother, *•' I will not forsake you ; by your side I'll stay ; " My arm shall buckler you I I'll shed my blood "In your defence!" Mag. One word were worth all these I Say — I'll obey you ! RoL With all my heart, I will ; Doubt not — but yet — Mag, Pause there — and blessings on thee 24 aiARY That thou hast promised ! The eyes of Angels — Saints — Are on this barren, blighted land — on us — On the frail woman and the giddy youth, Who thus, amidst the ruins, not by time, But impious fury made, devote their lives To Heaven and Scotland's sovereign. (She leads Roland to the CrosSy and makes him kneel with her.) " Blessed host ! " Martyrs and Saints, who listen to our vow, ^' Witness its execution ! If we desert ^'^ The sacred cause, expunge our recreant names " From the bright record of the souls you love; " Make all our prayers unfruitful; scathe and scorn " Scatter in all our paths, and when the death- damp ^* Stands in big drops upon our dying foreheads, '* Leave us to sink in merited despair !" [Thei/ I'ise and come forward. Now then to Kennaquhair I [Exeimt. SCENE-Tnteiior of the Monastery of St, Mary^s. The Hall lighted tip ; the Altar ^ and every pre- paration for the Installation. A pair of fold- ing doors at the back of the scene. Enter Father Ambrose. Father A. *' All things are ready for the in- stallation ! " And soon the mitre which Eustatius wore OP SCOTLAND. 25 " Shall circle this less worthy forehead. Even now " The trembling brothers wait, with sinking hearts, " Their new elected Abbot ! Not ambition — " Sainted Eustatius ! — not ambition prompts me " To fill thy desolated seat ! Alas / " No earthly wealth — no temporal influence " Now dignifies the sacred office ! — No ! " Nor humble vassals throng to offer tribute. " The power and splendor of the pastoral name " Have pass'd away, and left its poor possessors *^ A heritage of poverty and peril. " But I must on to the consistory. " I hear the echoes as the impatient brethren " Pace, too arJl fro, the cloister'd avenues. [Exit Ambrose. Enter Veniam, followed by Magdalen Grjeme and Roland. Ven. Intrate ! Sister ! Welcome too, my son .' In good time have you come — the wicks are lighted — The altar cleansed — the ruins swept aside — And from the chapter-house already moves The short procession ! No throwing wide the gales To admit the humble laity — no chime Of merry bells — Mag. Regard not that, my brother ! In the first ages of our holy church In tears — in tempests were her abbots chosen:— Not in the Vatican, but the deep vaults 3 2G MARY And subterraneous dungeons of the heathen ; — Not greeted with the shouts of multitudes, The roar of cannon, artificial fire, But by the Lictors' and the Preetors' summons Which calPd the fathers forth to martyrdom. From such adversity she rose 5 and now By such shall she be purified ! Fen. Come then ! I see the lights that move this way. (Veniam opens the folding doors: the organ strikes up in solemn swell, accompanied by the voices of the monks in deep chorus.) Enter Father Ambrose, and a train of monks, hearing torches, and chaunting the mass, as they arrange themselves on each side of the altar. As the chorus continues^ 7ioises are heard without ; ye//s, and horns, and hells ^ becoming louder and louder. The monks cease their chaunt, and huddle round the Abbott^ who mo- tions them to be calm. Magdalen and Roland advance from the place where they had stood unseen. Magdalen approaches the altar, and appears about to speak. Roland looks towards the door, and half unsheathes his dagger. Father Jl. Speak uot, my sister ! and my son, forbear To touch thy earthly weapon ! " Saint Mary's " head ^^ Himself shall greet the clamorous train of vas- " sals, ** Who come to celebrate his installation !" If blood this day must desecrate our siirinc, OF SCOTLAND. 2? Thou mayest not shed it. {Loud knocking, mid Father Jinihrose advances toivards the gate.) Whosoe'er you are, Whose boisterous interruption breaks our wor- ship. Peace — and reply — whence came you ? Voice without. Open the doors I Open, sir monk, or dowi) they go ! Several voices. Hurrah ! Down with the doors ! down with the hirdane , monks ! Father A. By what authority demand you en- trance ? Voice iffitoout. Our own, old piety ! Several voices. Aye, our own. Father A. Begone, niy erring children. I alone In this household autharity. Voices without. Hurrati ! Down with the doors ! (loud hammering at the doors.) Father Jl. Cease ! cease, my children I (mo- tions to Veniam, who retires.') The porter shall unlock the doors ! Meantime Consider if your state of mind be fit To cross the holy threshold. Voice ivithout. Peace with your papistry I We are in the mood of the monks when they are merriest, and that is when they sup beef brewis for lanten-kail. Let your porter be speedy, or we will heave away. Voices. Huzza I huzza I Re-enter Veniam, with the keys. Father Am- JKOSE motions Roland a?id Magdale:^ to re- 23 MKR^ tire behind a pillar, and VeniAm to open the door. Father A. advances boldly to front the intruders. Veniam goes off^ unlocks the door, and hastily runs back behind Father Ambrose. After a brief pause, enter slowly a clown, foU lowed by several others. 1st clown, (turning to his companions.^ Keep back, my comrades. Let me speak to the holy father. Clowns. Aye, aye, let him speak. Father A. What is your pleasure ? 1st cloton. Beef, ale, and brandywine ; or, if it like you better, venison and choicer liquor. Who's 5'our refectioner ? Clowns. Aye, where's the refectioner ? Father A. Alas ! my children, we have little use For serving men and caterers. Our refectory Contains but pilgrim's fare ! Clowns. He lies ! Down with him ! Mag. {rushing forward) Arouse thee, father, And with Saint Peter's goodly sword thou bear- est, Strike, and avenge Saint Peter's patrimony ! " Bind them in chains, which, by the church im- " posed, " Eternity shall rivet." Father A. Peace, my sister ! Clowns. A witch ! a witch ! the ducking stool ? the mill-dam ! 1 St clown, (advances to seize Magdalen^ when Roland, rushing forwards, seizes him by the throat, raises his dagger, and assumes an attitude to strike. 0? SCOTLAND. 29 ■-lol- Breathe but another sound, and by this weapon ! 'sJiout) Father J, (^stepping bettveen them) Rash youth, forbear ! {Roland loses his hold) Heaven is its own avenger ! cliildren ! friends ! Under our predecessors yor. have lived ; The worldly goods you have by them were given, And better gifts, the mercy of the church, Fasting, and prayer, and vigil, were bestowed. {the crated give back wiih signs of shame) 1st clown. So I have heard the old wives say. Father Jl. Andjs is it grateful, seemly, honest, friends. To come with noisy violence and threats Against a few old men, who fill the places Once held by those who gave you all ? "We only pray to live and die in peace. 1st clown. The queen's down, and Murray's up, and the order is to burn the monasteries, and root out the monks. So down with ihem; comrades. Clowns. Aye ! aye ! down with them ! (they advance) Enter suddenly Sir Halbert Glendinning, ADA:s%WooDcocKy a7id attendants armed. He idierpo^ses betiveeu the monks and the crowd; t.ie latter fall back. Sir Halb. Out, base-born cowards I Are you christian men, irubjects, and vassals, and presume you thus To deal in outrage ? Isi cJotni, We heard, Sir Halbert, from some ofyo-:: train, that you had brought orders from court to put down the monastery. 3* 30 MARY SirHalh. Villain, and if I had ! lacked I the power, What you, the very scum of vassalage, Usurp their execution ? Get you home, Or. by my trusty lance, to-morrow's dawn Shall never beam on some of you. {crowd sneak away. [To Father Ambrose.) Edward ! I joy that I have done you this slight service ; Scarce two hours since I came from Holyrood • By accident, from one of these loud brawlers, Woodcock picked up the news of their intent, And gave me instant notice, (sees Roland) Ro- land Graeme ! Met in good time ! The tale of thy dismissal Has reached my ear ; my lady was too hasty, Upon such slight offence, to banish thee : But what has brought you hither ? Father A. Brother, he came With sister Magdalen, his sole relation. Sir Halh. I have commission to send to Holy- rood, For special purposes, a trusty page, Thou, in thy exercises and thy breeding, Hast shown the sparkles of a gentle spirit, Therefore I will dispatch ihee to the court. What ? Dost thou hesitate } Rol. I feel. Sir Knight, Such gratitude as well becomes me. But My kind nurse, my only friend, my mother, Who tended me in infant helplessness, I may not leave her now; the frost of time Hath chilled her veinS; and bleached her aged head. OP SCeTLAND. 3i (turning to Magdalen The limbs and faculties ihou taughtest iheir use. Thou needest now to toil for thee ! protect thee ? No — no — I will not leave ihee ! Sir Halh. Who art thou ? Mag. Who or what I am concerns thee little ! Roland accepts thy offer ! Nay, my son, Tho' old, these bones have marpow in them yet, And heaven subdues with vveaivest instruments. Farewell, Sir Knight, and peace be with you ! {retires with Roland.) Sir Halh. (beckoning his attendants to retire) Ed- ward ! It grieves me much that 1 must hence with speed ! The promptest measures only can avert The consequence of this day's rash procedure. Roland must instantly to Edinburgh; My trusty falconer shall attend him. Father A. " Nay, but you'll eat with me : n " pilgrim's meal " I'll set before you, and with cheerful heart "We'll share the scant provisions." Sir Halh, " It may not be." Even while I linger here, some slanderous tongue May arraign, to Murray's ear, the daring man, Who, in the face of edicts, has presumed To take the abbot's office. Father A. Heed not that! I would not to the church's enemy. Even though my brother, owe my temporal safety. But I would shed ray heart's best blood to hear The church had won thee to her fold. 32 MARY Sir Hal Farewell ! Such vain discussion only wastes the time. Follow me, Roland / [Exeimt Sir Halbert, Father Amhrose, and Adam Woodcock^ and train. Sir Hal- bert winding his bugle as he makes his exit. Magdalen and Roland advance. Mag. Farewell, my son ! Yet, ere we part, receive This sacred packet. Keep it in thy bosom ! And when despair and darkness thicken round thee, And all of hope and love thy soul hath cherish'd Seem fleeting from thee, place it in her hand Whom thou hast seen to-day. So now, farewell ! Be faithful, and the Saints protect thee ! Ro/, My more than mother, may the blessed Virgin Bless and defend thee ! — (^They embrace.) [Exit. 'Roland. Magdalen falls on her knees before the altar. The organ's swell is heard ccdling to Vespers. Re-enter Father Ambrose and Monks from all mdes, who range round the altar, and fll the stage while the drop scene sloicly falls. END OF ACT PIE-^ OF SCOTLAND. 33 ACT II. Scene — A public room in the hostelry of St. Mi- chael^s, Edinhurgh several tables — persons seated, smoaking, drinking, i'c. — At one table, considerably advanced before the resty Roland and Adam Woodcock. Adam. Oh Heaven, have mercy upon us, and send us speedy departure from this Edinburgh! " We had not been half an hour within the gates, but you must unsheath bilbo, and take part in the first broil we saw." And what had you to do with the Seytons, or the Leslies, that you had never known the names of in your life before ? Rol, I have my own reasons for taking part with the Seytons. Adam. I'll wager a groat, Master Roland, that it is nothing but your unhallowed passion for that clashing of cold iron, which has as much charm for you as the clatter of a brass pan hath for a hive of bees. But if you are to draw sword with every man who draws sword — Rol. Well, well, Adam, I'll promise you to be more wary. Adam. And then you are peering under every woman's muffler and screen, as if you expected to find an old acquaintance. Rol. Tush, man, nonsense! I only wish to o4 jyiARV see what eyes these gentle hawks have got under their heods. Enter Wing-the-Wind, (hastily.) Win, Well found, my old friend Adam. You must despatch your business quick; and, with- in this hour, to horse for Kennaquhair and Ave- nel. For you, good sir, the Regent shapes another course, [to Rol.) Adam. It will fash me sorely to part from Master Roland ; and 1 fear he will scarcely be able to go through the world without my pro- tecting prudence, to keep his tongue within bounds and his iron in the sheath. Rol. Alas ! good Adam ! If Sir Halbert told me right, I shall have little use for steel in my new character ; and no occupation for my tongue, save to war with women's wit, or chant psalmody to frighten away the devil on winter nights. Jldam. So much the better. Master Roland. But come, my old boy, Michael, for *' Auld Lang Syne," as you Scots say, let us have a pottle together. Win. Not now, Adam ; I have other busi- ness ; but anon, come to the buttery, al Holy- rood ; and we'll empty a pitcher or two at parting. (Exit.) Adam. Tapster ! tapster ! Fetch a stoup of brandy-wine, knave ! We will have a can to- gether once more, Master Roland, and let care come to-morrow. Voice, (without.) I seek a youth, with a sprig of holly in his cap, black hair and black eyes, green jacket, and the air of a coxcomb. I have OF SCOTLAND. 35 sought him through every close and alley in the Canongate, the fiend gore him ! Rol. (^starting, and rushing towards the door.) Catharine Seyton, as I live. (^aside,) Enter Catharine Seyton, disguised as a page, Cath. (^advancing towards Roland, who slowly retreats.) You, Sir Holly Top, I would speak with you. (Roland still retreats.) Do they understand a Scotch tongue in your Country. } said 1 would speak with you. Adam, (advancing between them,) What*s your business with my comrade, my young chick of the game ? Cath. Nothing to you, my old feeder of fal- cons — for I guess by your bag and gauntlet, that you are squire of the body to a sort of kites. [To Roland.) Step this way, out of that old eaves-dropper's hearmg. Rol. I think, we two are not wholly stran- gers to each other. Cath. We must have met in our dreams, then ; and my days are too busy to remember what 1 think of at nights. Rol. Or, apparently, to remember the faces you have seen from one day to another. Cath. Prithee, good Holly Top, put those eyes of thine under good government, and un- muffle thine ears. Let me do mine erraud^, and be rid of you. Rol. About it speedily, then, my fair incog, for I see other eyes than mine are upon you. Cath. (^taking a handsome sword from undtT her mantle.) This weapon 1 bring you from a friend. Pledge 3'Qurself, hand arid glove, net 36 MARY to unsheath it but at the command, and in the presence, of your rightful sovereign. RoL By whom is it sent ? Or when will the opportunity be given ? Or how — Cath. Ask no questions ; my commission ex- tends not to answering them. RoL If 1 am offended, may I not draw in my own defence ? Cath. Not this weapon ! For what do you wear your own ? Adam, (who has approached gradually.) For no good ; and that 1 can witness as well as any one. Cath. Stand back, fellow, that curious face of thine will gain thee a buffet some day. Adam. A buffet, Master Malapert, best keep down fist ; or buffet will beget buffet. RoL Peace, Adam, go finish your brandy- wine. {To Catharine.) I accept of this wea- pon under the condition you impose; but if we are to work together in a mighty enterprize, S'ome openness and couHdence on your part will be necessary. You understand me ! Re- member Sister Magdalen and Dame Bridget ! Cath. Bridget and Magdalen ! Hark ye, Mas- ter Holly Top, your wits are gone on wool- gathering ; comfort yourself with a caudle ; thatch your brain-sick noddle with a woollen night-cap, and Heaven bless you — Don't you see all eyes are upon us. (^aside.) going* Adam. Will you drink a cup, young man, now you have done your errand, and listen to a good song ? (^sings.) " XUe Pope, that pagan, full of pride,"— OF SCOTLAND. 37 Cath, He who speaks irreverently of the Holy Father, in my hearing, is the cub of a heretic wolf, and I'll switch him as I would a cur ! (TAe company rise^ a?id take their hats^ whispering to each other, and go off', one by one, as if fearing a fray.) Adam. I will break thy young pate, if thoa darest to lift finger to me. [sings.) " The Pope, that pagan, full of pride, << Hath blinded"— Cath. (^striking him across the eyes with her switch.) Out on thee, heretic ! {Adam starts up, rubbing his eyes, to grapple with Catharine.) Rol. (^stepping betm-een.) To Catharine. Get )'0u gone, " quickly, there are earnest reasons *' why you should." Cath. *' There, at least, you are right— so, *' farewell." {Exit. Rol. Sit down, Adam, you know not with whom you deal. — She shall not escape me thus. By all the saints, I'll follow her steps. {aside.) Sit down, good Adam, and renew your can. {Seats Adam, who continues to rub his eyes, while Roland runs off.) Adam. By this light, which I cannot see, thou hast been a false friend to me. Master Roland ; for thou would'st neither tweak the monkey's nose, nor let me do it myself. What sayest thou to that charge ?—-W hat ! not a word ? " If you saw your father in a scrape, " I'll warrant, you would laugh at him, instead 4 38 MARV *' of lending him a hand." (Lookingup.) Why, he is gone ! What incarnate devil has got hold of you now. Tapster, my hat — where did he go ? God-a-mercy, I'll be close at his heels. (^Exit, running. Scene. — The Street. Catharine Seyton, in her disguise^ passes across the back of the stage. Just as she goes qff^- — enter Roland Gkaime, li^ho makes a full stop, gazing after her. Rol. Her step — her figure — and that match- less grace ! There's nothing masculine in't — Oh ! 'tis her- self ! My whispering heart is but a treacherous prompter If it be otherwise ! " Yet her eye shrunk not *' From my inquiring glances — nor her voice *' Betrayed confusion — nor on that velvet cheek, *' Where never yet the down of manhood grew, *' Faltered the vernal rose ! Well — well — no matter!" Ay, trip along, fair sylph ! But, by the mass ! You'll show young Atalanta's nimble heels An' I o'ertake you not. (^Exit.) Enter Adam Woodcock, out of breath. Adam. Saint Mary, SaintMagdalen, Saint Bene- dict, Saint Barnabas, Saint Satan, and Saint Bel- zebub ! — for this is enough to make one swear laint and devil. What can have come over the OF SCOTLAND 39 youth with a miuTain ! He will have his throat cut, as sure as I was born at the foot of Roseberry Topping ! An' I could but see the top of a holly-sprig now, it were worth a gold tassel. Ah! who goes yonder? the purple page, as I'm a true falconer, and Master Roland after him ! Why, he wont surely follow him into that great house ! He does — now, before I can get to the door, he will have got his stomach full of that cold iron he loves so dearly. I'll never leave him in jeopardy, however — so here goes. Scene — The interior of Lord Seyton's house^ Enter Catharine, hastily, throwing herself iw to a chair. Cath. What can I do ? That inconsiderate youth ! I saw him close behind me as I entered. He little recks the dangers which beset That holly sprig of his. Enter Rolanp. Fly for your life ! How could you enter here ! where that vile leaf, Which forms your top-knot, will make enemies Of every one who sees you 1 (noise without,) Get you gone ! A moment more — Rol. And but a single moment! For what am I reserved ? Resolve this doubt With but a word, or, by my hopes ! — ^ 40 MARV Caih. FIj^ quickly ! Horses are now in waiting to escort me To the Queen's prison at Lochleveu ! {noise increases. ^ Alas ! You have already staid too long. Farewell ! 4.sk for Lord Seyton ! We shall meet again ! (ExiU {Enter Servants uith swords drawn, 1st Serv. A spy ! a spy ! 2d Serv. Look at the holly leaf. One of Avenel's retainers ! 3d Serv. Down with him. {advancing.) Rol. Nay : I would speak with Lord Seyton ! \st. Serv. Secure the door ! {They advance upon him.) {Enter from behind Magdalen Gr^me, who suddenly interposes between them.) Mag. Vassals ! forbear ! The wretch whose traitorous steel Scars but the skin of that heaven-buckler'd youth — Wither his arm, till from the sapless bone The blasted flesh fall piecemeal ! {Servants retire.) (To Roland.) Thou rash youth ! Whence this unlpok'd-for meeting ? {Enter Lord Seyton.) Lord Sey. What means this tumult ? Sure my roof's protection Should be the stranger's surety — friend or foe— For hospitable greeting, or fair contest ! Ha ! do my eyes deceive me ? The same youth Who yesternight rush'd boldly to my side, OF SCOTLAND. 41 When my own knaves grew fearful, and beat back The foe that pressed upon me. Give him wel- come ! Your name, young man ? RoL Roland Grasme, so please you : And in Lord Seyton's presence if 1 stand, I joy to tind your grace's hurt was trifling ; And so I take my leave. Lord Sey. (^to Magdalen.) Is this the youth For whose good fiuth and active offices Ambrose hath proffered doubtless guarantee ? And thou Mag. The hostage of this withered form ; On which frail surety hast thou not already Committed to his care Lord Sey. Enough — enough, (^taking a gold chain from his bonnet and putting it round Roland's neck.) Wear this, my trusty friend — thy gallant bearing Approves thee worthy of aSevton's friendship. Adam. (^ziHthout.) I saw him enter this house- as I have skill in falconr}', I did ; and if he is not forthcoming, with his own head on his shoulders, and without the scratch of a bilbo upon his skin, the Ptegent shall, for every hurt in his body, flay a score of you. Lord Sey. What noisy fellow have we here ? RoL My good lord ! It is the trusty falconer of Glendinning, Who hath the charge of me to Edinburgh ; I have but left him while I made the inquiry Which brought me hither. 4* 42 HiARV {Enter AdAxM Woodcock.) Jldam. That firebrand spirit of yours, Mister Roland, will surely be the death of both of us yet, before we separate. Cry you mercy, lords and ladies. — As I am a Christian I the old witch Madge from Avenel. (Aside.) Rol. Silence, good Adam ; get thee to the door, And there await me. Adam. And will yon come with your neck out of a halter? I don't see that switch-swing- ing, purple-cloaked knave who made so free- — Rol. Peace, 1 say — begone — I'll follow in- stantly, {leads him off to the door.) And now, my lord, once more I take my leave — ■ Links of more lasting power than these of gold — Alag. impetuous boy, no more ! Start not, my lord ! A young enthusiast in his sovereign's cause, He lack'd no chain to bind him to her fortunes, Save that which loyal love and true devotion Hath woven round his heart ! — LordSey. Farewell — success attend thee. {Exit, Mag. {in an undertone.) Another word, And thou hadst blasted all my budding hopes ! Think not of love, nor soul-subduing pleasure, While Scotland claims the vigour of thine arm, And Scotland's Queen an undivided heart— Or basely perish in the sordid flame Thy rebel passions have engendered. Fare- well ! [Exeunt severally. OF SCOTLAND. 43 BcENE— i'.^ chamber. Queen Mary discovered re- dining on a sofa. Lady Fleming seated at her feet ; and Catharine Seyton advanced towards the front f and sitting at her harp, SONG. Tune — " Ye banks and braes o' bonny Doun." 1. Ah '. wliat is Summer's gaudy gear, Or beamy morn, to captive e'e ?— Or music to the prison'd ear ? — Save that wild cadence — Liberty ! The orient sun, with golden light, May stud the palace of the free, But noon-day gleams are dull as night To her who weeps for liberty. 2. Young Spring hath not a flower to charm, Nor tint of grace, nor breath of glee, Nor smile to cheer, nor ray to warm The heart bereft of liberty. For freedom is the sun — the dew — Spring's life, and Summer's fragrant sigh j We riot in its radiant hue, And when its glory sets — we die ! Mary, (advancing.') So from his wiry prison the poor bird Warbles his lament to departed freedom ! And thou, my youthful maiden, little knowest What 'tis to drag on life from day to day, Breathing and taking back the breath of bond- age !— ^ To pine and wither 'midst unwholesome walls, Shut out from all the gay and busy world, 44 MARY And sight or sound of pleasure ; — '' to receive, " 'Stead of the greetings of unpurchased love, " Which call the aflections forth, as summer suns *' Extract rich beauties from the sordid earth, " A courtesy constrained and cold, that blights " The heart's young blossoms, and withlicy touch *' Congeals the fount of feeling !" Cath. My gracious Q,ueen ! Mary. I know what thou would'st say, my girl ; there's love, And truth, and fix'd devotion in thy look. Thou deem'st the presence of thy Queen can make A palace of a prison. But, alas ! When from the surface of that downy cheek The bleaching hand of stern captivity Shall pluck the rose — and the sad, secret tears Imparted to thy pillow, shall have worn Deep furrows where the sickly lillies shed A morbid paleness — the pulses of that heart Will beat to graver measure, and experience. Outstripping sadly the fast foot of time. Lead on such cares, as now thou reck'st not of. Cath. And care, my royal mistress, shall be sweet As ever joy has been, can I but turn The envenom'd arrows from my queen. Alary. Good girl ! If, by the ebb of this ill-fortuned tide, Which for the present whelms me, Scotland's queen Should reassume her throne, thy ardent love And services shall be remembered. (^Bugle sounds.) Ha! OF SCOTLAND. 45 What may this mean ? {a knock at the door.) some unexpected evil ! Give entrance to it, Fleming! Enter Douglas, with great dejection of look and manner. Well, Douglas, Those sorrowing looks of thine are gloomy heralds, Whose silent eloquence outruns thy tongue ! What means that shrill alarm ? Doug, So please your majesty — commission- ers From Holyrood were presently expected. And this loud summons tells us of their arrival. Mary. Commissioners ! From Holyrood ! George Douglas ! Whence comes it that the Queen was not in- formed Her subjects sought her presence ? Doug. Madam ! Scarce half an hour ago, the lady mother Gave me such intimation, which the speed Of their arrival hath overtaken me. Even in the act of bearing to my Queen. A page, just set ashore, attends without, To do your royal pleasure. Mary. Admit him ! But see ! our lady hostess, who well wots How much we love her presence, hath out- stripp'd Our slow permission. Enter Lady Lochleven, followed by Roland Gr^me. We appreciate duly 46 MARY The favor of this, unrequested visit— This unannounc'd intrusion on the hour We used to set apart for our devotion. Lady L. I grieve my presence should offend your grace. I bring this young addition to your train ; And tho' the day be early, yet I deem'd The sight of such a spruce and smooth-faced minion Might well extenuate my fault. Mary. Doubtless, Mary of Scotland must admire the love Which gives the daughter of so many kings, Herself a Queen anointed, suite so numerous, As these two waiting women and a page 1 Add but an usher and two serving men. And we shall have attendance which may rival The train of any country dame in Fife : The kindness of my nobles — or my sovereigns— So 1 must call them — bends me to the earth ! Lady L. Perhaps at some cost of policy, your grace, This new indulgence has been granted you. Mary, Or rather, at some cost to our poor hostess. My selfish rapture made me overlook The trouble and the charges which will fall On our good lady and her house, forsooth, From this othcious swelling of our train ! Clothe not that gentle brow with frowns, fair dame ; Pertaining to the crown are goodly manors, From which your duteous son and my kind bro- ther OF SCOTLAND. 47 Will give large bounty, e'er thro' lack of means The term of Mary's visit to your castle Should find an hour's subtraction. Lady L. The Douglasses Have ever known their duties to the state, Aye, and discharged them duly, even when dan- ger And irksomeness attended the performance, Regardless of reward. Mary. Nay, dear Lochleven, Be not too scrupulous ; accept a manor ! What should support the sovereign and her court. But her crown lands ? and such a duteous son As Murray's Earl, will not disgrace his mother By insufficient bounty ! But I trifle ! Leave us, good hostess : we require some mo- ments To fit us for this interview. (^Exeunt Lady Lochleven and Douglas.) [To Roland.) Young man ! Thou, too, hast left some happy hearth, made cheerful By kindling smiles, and looks that spoke content, To share a prison's gloom, and waste thy youth Where joy inhabits not. Rol. So please your highness ! All I have known of pleasure, is the name. My memory chronicles no hours of joy On which to found regrets ; and for the future, If these weak sinews and this body's service Can but acquit the love I owe my Queen, This day begins my calendar of hfe. 48 MARY Mary. Well said, my page : I like the genUe spirit That speaks throughout thy bearing and thy words. Thou art my chamberlain — my sole attendant : Wilt thou obey my orders ? RoL To death, my Queen ! Mary. Guard then our chamber door : some slight adjustment Our dress requires ; We would not rebel rude- ness Should prematurely break upon our presence. RoL Madam, no foot shall pass the threshold's limit, Save o'er this body. Mary. Attend me, Fleming ! Catharine, bring thou thy harp : its soothing tones May tranquillize my spirit. [Exunt Mary and Fleming.) Rol, (j3s he carries the harp towards the cham-) bar.) Well niet, fair maid ! Now, by my hope of bliss, We have soon reached the height of our pre- ferment. And may coo amorous phrases at each other, Like two caged turtle doves ! Catk. Yes, worthy sir ! In separate cages, tho'. But prithee, speed ! Our royal mistress waits my coming. RoL Only a word or too ! Cath. Another time ! We shall have space enough to use our tonguei? I OF SCOTLAND. 49 Before we leave this place. Hark ! Fleming calls ! Give me the harp. (^Exit Catharine.) RoL My beauteous Queen and mistress ! Already in this bosom, every spark Of generous manhood kindles for thy service. But hold awhile : this fiery zeal of mine 111 suits the character of my commission. To spy upon her actions — note her words — And hid ming eyes make comment on her looks — And these with treacherous diligence report To those who seek her life. Such is the service Expected at my hands : to them or her I must prove false : disloyal to my Queen ; Or to base traitors, traitor; Whate'erthis blood. Or wheresoever fountain'd, I'll not stain it By meanly catering for the gorge of treason. 'I reason ! — What is it! Is it treason to oppose A sovereignty which rules by desolation ? Mary has powerful foes : whether her guilt, Or her misfortunes have created them, 1 may noljudge ; yet, ere I list myself — (Catha- rine heard without, singing, ac- companied. Roland listens.^ " My maids come to my flressing bower, " A.id dock my nut-brown hair, " Where'er ye laid a plait before, " Look ye lay ten times niair.'' My charming mavis ! thou art lost to me If 1 forsake the Queen, and one sweet smile- One whisper of the heart from thee, repays Ten thousand dangers. Enough, I am resolved ! (^A loud knocking at the door.^ Lord Lind. {ixithout.') Undo the door within ' .jO MARY RoL At whose command ? Who claims admittance to the Queen of Scot- land ? Lord Lin d. Fool! on your peril, open; or, hy Heaven ! Lindesay will force admission. Sir R. Mel. (Without.) Nay, be patient ! Let the Queen know her faithful counsellor, Sir Robert Melville, asks an interview. RoL Your Message shall be sped. — (Roland taps at the door of Jhe Cluceii's apartment^ speaks wiihih^ and re- tujminir, gives admission to the coinmissioners.) Enter Lord Lindesay, Sir Robert Melville, Lord RuTHVEN, and Douglas. Rol. {To Melville.) Witness Sir Robert Mel- ville, had the Queen Denied her acquiescence, not a roan Had entered here, save o'er my bleeding corse. Lord Lind. Silence, loud boy ! Where is your trifling mistress ? Rol. The Queen is here. Enter Queen Mary, Ladij Fleming, and Catha- rine Sevton. MarTj. We fear we have detained you, noble sirs ! You wear a formidable sword, Lord Lindesay ; A strange court ornament ! Feared you to meet Some giant enemy within these walls ? Lord Lind. No Madam, no ! But this good blade of mine Hath courtier's privilege ; for, before this day, It hath disturbed the presence of a Stuart. OF SCOTLAND. 51 Mary. How so, my lord ? Lord Lind. Your grace shall shortly hear. Douglas, the Earl of Angus wore this sword, When from your grandsire's presence, the third James, He dragged that servile herd of sycophants, Whose corses afterwards, on Lawler Bridge, From their tall gibbets pluckM the carrion crows. With this same weapon, near the brook of Fala, He sheared the courtier's thigh, whose slander- ous tongue To James the fourth traduced him, lopping the limb, As easily as the early half-grown twig Is severed from the sappling ! Mary. 'Tis a tale Fit for a lady's ear I But pray go on. How pass'd a blade of such illustrious daring To Lindesay, from the House of Douglas ? Me- thinks They deera'd too lightly of it, to let pass So choice a relic ! Sir R. Mel. (Jiasti.ly.'^ Nay, Madam, ask it not 1 And you. my lord, for shame, reply not to it. Lord Lind. 'Tis time the truth should reach her. Know then, Madam, When Bothwell's Earl, that foul and murderous traitor, To personal combat challeng'd any noble Who dared accuse him, gifted with this sword By noble Morton, I defied tb.e wretch. And Heaven so help me, had he kept his word, This trusty steel so well had carved his body. 52 MARY That the carnivorous birds and hungry hounds Had found the morsels suited to their throats. Mary. Had Blary Stuart worn her father's sword, The boldest of the rebels on that day Should not have lack'd a foe. But come, my Fleming:, Unless Lord Lindesay find some weightier matter To treat us with, than these great feats of Bell- the-Cat, And of the deeds himself proposed to do, Had time and tide so will'd, we will retire, And you shall read to me the doughty doings Of some enchanted knight, at whose bright sword Armies of monsters melted into air, Or hardened into statues. Lord Lind. Tarry, Madam ! I did not seek this interview to tempt The sharpness of your wit. The secret coun- cil Has charged us with a more important errand. Mary. Then with your favour. Lords, I'll sit ! Proceed ! Sue you for pardon ? Do you bring petition That now I will resume my rightful throne, And let the cherub mercy check the arm Of threateningjustice ? Lord Ruth. Madam, it pains me To speak harsh truths : — we come to offer par- don — Not implore it. Affix your signature To these considered instruments, by which, OF SCOTLAND. 53 In favour of your son, you make demission Of crown and governnieut. Thus you will soothe The troubled aspect of the times, and spare Yourself the consequence of rash rejection. Alary. And is this all my loving subjects ask ? Are they content that 1 resign a crown, By birthright mine, to an unconscious infant, — A twelvemonth's tenant of this constant world, — Fling down my sceptre, and take up a distaff? No, this is far too little ! Good, my lord ! What says the other scroll ? Lord Ruth. By this your grace Appoints your trusty kinsman, tirst in blood. And the most honoured and honourable Of all your subjects, James the Earl of Murraj^ The kingdom's regent, till the infant King Arrive at age discreet. Alary, (^clapping her haiids, and then hiding her face.) Alas ! Alas ! Out of my brother's quiver comes the arrow — And from my brother's bow ! Was it for this I look'd for his return ? Lord Ruth. I pray your answer. Alary. Traitor. But ibr my mercy, thy base head Had long since stood upon the City gates ! Lord Ruth. Let not my presence goad you to your ruin ! The death of Rizzio cost our house its head, My father, worthier than a thousand slaves Like that false minion, perished in his exile. (Mary -weeps.) Sir R. Mel. This is too harsh, my lords ! 5* 64 I9ARY Mary. Silence, Sir Robert. I grieve that traitors should behold me weep. (^wiping her eyes.^ But tell me, haughty Lords, what earthly war- rant Can pluck the crown from the anointed brow. Lord Lind. Your own misgovernment hath, made the land A scene of bloody brawl and endless contest. Brother by brother falls, and son by sire : Rebellion, slaughter, exile and oppression, Have marked your rule ! Your abdication, ma- dam. Is DOW a debt you owe your suffering country. Mary. Lindesay, you spake not with such scurril taunt On yon fair summer eve, when at the butts, In gay Saint Andrew's garden, we essayed Our skill in archery together ; then Thou wert my friend, and vowedst to be my soldier. Lord Lind. [affected.) Ay, then were all men pleased to play the fool, So it might win your smile ; but gayer men, And better courtiers jostled me aside, And made my awkwardness their ridicule. Mary. I grieve, my lord, if by my gay de- meanour I gave offence ; through idle gaiety I never shall offend again. Lord Ruth. Madam, Our time is wasting. Pray yon, make decision ! Mary. What, on the instant ? Not a moment given OF SCOTLAND. OO On such momentous issue to determine ? What do you ofler in exchange for crown, Wealth, subjects, state and power ? Lord Ruth. We give you pardon, And time and means in holy sohtude, To make your peace with Heaven. Mary. If I refuse — Lord Ruth. For murder and adulter}^ — Sir R. J\Id. Forbear, my lord ! You, and my Lord of Lindesay, for some se- conds, Retire, while 1 with gentler language strive. To win her grace's ear. Lord Lind. So let it be ; For half an hour within the hall we'll wait. (Exeunt Lindesay and Ruthven.) (Flesung, Catharine, and Sir Robert, kneel to Mary to sooth her.) Mary. Kneel not to me. Sir Robert! Mock me not With vain, unmeaning homage I Why stay ycfu here, W^ith the deposed-^condemned ? Sir R. J\JeL So help me Heaven, My heart is true as when your highness filled Ti)e throne of Scotland. 1 am old, indeed. And cannot, like the Seytons, wield a sword, To do you service I — Mary. Oli ! were a Seyton here. Whose wisdom, truth, and valour, might assist me ! Were there but one, whose arm at Mary's call. Would bare his trusty sword ! — 56 MARY Rol. Madam, there is ! (Drawing his sword, from wJiich falls a scroll.) Cath. (^picking up the scroll.) Even at your call, my liege, a Seyton's wisdom Attends with proft'ered service. Marij. (^reads.) 'Tis so, indeed ! This is Lord Seyton's writing, and he counsels That I submit myself, and sign the deeds, Which being thus by forceful means obtained, Will lose their obligation, when affairs May justify the exposition! — My page, How came you by this parchment ? Rol. So please your grace ! There's one beside you, who, methinks, could better Expound the riddle to your highness. Marij. Catharine ! Knows't thou of this ? Cath. Why some such sword as that, An aged devotee, one Sister Magdalen, Entrusted to my care, to give the youth, Lest, being committed to inferior hands, It might not reach its destiny. My liege, Thus far I know, but of the writing nothing. Save that it is my father's. Sir R. Mel. My dear mistress ! He has advised you well Yield to the tide. Such rapid strides has treason made already, We well may fear the worst. Mary. You terrify me — Surely no more assassinations ! Oh no ! They would not dare — Sir R. Mel. They talk of trial. Proofs, OF SCOTLAND. 57 And innocence itself, must sometimes stoop To foul-tongued calumny. Oh be advised ! Rol. And, if it please my Q,ueen, I will away, And at the courts of England, France, and Spain, With fearless tongue, assert the ruling motives Which influenced your compliance ; and should any, With slanderous scepticism greet my errand. This arm and this good sword shall write the lie, In bleeding characters, on his foul corse. Mary, (^giving him her hand to kiss.) My page, I thank thee : but the rather now, As I perforce must sign these instruments, Serve me by witnessing that not from duty. Nor of my own inclining, do I yield ; But from the fear of evils which may follow, Should 1 refuse. Call in these Lords again ! (^Exit Roland.) SirR. Mel. Your Grace acts wisely. Mary. That the event will prove. Re-enter Roland, Lord Lindesay, and Lord RUTHVEN. Lord Ruth. Madam, we come for your reply. Mary. My Lords ! Were I on yonder shore, on a fleet jennet. And ten true knights around me, this poor hand Should sign my sentence of eternal ruin, Rather than this concession ; but a prisoner, Circled with walls and waters, I must bend Where opposition will avail me not. But be it witnessed 'tis to force alone I thus submit myself. Lord Lind. (^Rous;hly grasping Mary^s arm.) Madam, beware ! 58 MARY Think e'er you strive in useless opposition To us who are the stronger ! Lord Ruth. Shame, my lord ! Sir R. Mel. This is too brutal ! (LiNDESAY looses his hold., and Mary hares her arm.) Mary. My lord, you might have spared this woman's arm Proof so impressive of your mightier strength ; But well— too well it indicates the terms On which this business rests. Bear witness all, That in obedience to the Lord of Lindesay, Who hath imprinted his sign manual here, I now subscribe these instruments. (57te signs.) Lord Lind. {in an undertone.) I meant no violence ; but women's flesh Is delicate as new fallen snow. {J\lary rises, curtsies, and is about to withdraw. Lindesay suddenly ad- vances, drops on his knee, kisses her hand and rises.) Lady f I kneel to Mary Stuart, that most noble Of all Heaven's creatures ; — not to the Queen of Scotland ! Mary. The Queen and Mary Stuart, rebel Lord, Both pity and forgive thee ; leagued with trai- tors, Thou art a good blade in a ruffian's hands : — Farewell, thou smoother, deeper villain, Ruth- ven ! — OF SCOTLAND. 59 ^lelville, farewell! Mays't thou find wealthier Diasters To give thee richer bribe, than Mary Stuart I Douglas, inform your grand dame, we desire To spend the remnant of the day alone. Roland, some packages which lie at Kinross Demand your care. Douglas will tell you fur- ther ! Farewell to ail ! (^Exeunt 3Iary, Lady Fleming, and Catiiar-ine, at one door, and at the other, RuTHVEN, Ltndesay, Mel- ville, Douglas, and Roland.) Scene — A village revel — the lake behind — num- bers of rustics passing to and fro — Doctor Luke LuNDiN acting as master of the ceremonies, and busying himself with his white wand. Lun. (^calling to him an emaxiaied rustic.) How do you, honest friend ? Rus. Very weakly, sir, since I took the elec- tuary ; it neighboured ill with the two spoon- fuls of pease porridge, and the kirn milk. Lun. Pease porridge and kirn milk ! Have you been under medicine these ten years, and keep your diet so ill ? Next morning take the electuary by itself, and touch nothing for six hours. Rus. I will, sir. [retires.) Lun. {to a lame rustic.) So ho, there, Saun- ders Darlet, you have been ill, I hear. Rus. Just got the turn, as I was thinking (t> 60" MARY send to your honour, and I am brnwly now again ; — it was nae great thing that ailed me. Lun. Hark you, sirrah ! Ilemember you owe the laird four stones of barley meal, and a bow of oats. Send no more such kain fowls as you sent last season. They looked as wretch- edly as patients dismissed from a plague hospi- tal. Let me see, there is some hard money owing besides. Hus. 1 was thinking, sir, my best way would be to come down to your honour, and take your advice yet, in case my disorder should re- turn. . Lun. Do so, then, knave, {rustic retires^ — and boat approaches the shore and lands Roland Gra:me. Lundin advances to receive himS) The freshness of the morning upon you, fur sir! You are sent, I warrant, to see if we observe here the regiuien which her good ladyship hath prescribed, h)r escliewing all superstitious cere- monies and idle aniiilies in our revels. Rol. I have no such charge, doctor. Lun. Call me not doctor, since I have laid aside my furred gown and bonnet, and retired me into this temporality of chamberlain. Rol. Oh, Sir ! the cowl makes not the monk, neither the cord the friar. We have all heard of the cures performed by doctor Lundiu. Lnn. Toys, sir, trifles ! Marry, heaven sent its blessing — and this 1 must say, better fashion- ed medicines have brought fewer patients through. But will it please you enter my poor lodging, and take your morning's cup ; for what saith the school of Salerno. OP SCOTLAND. 61 Poculura mane haustum Restaurat naturam exhaustam. RoL Your learning is too profound for me, and so would your draught be likewise, I fear. Lun. Not a whit, fair sir — a cordial cup of sack, impregnated with wormwood is the best anti-pestilential draught ; and, to speak the truth, the pestilential miasmata are now very rife in the atmosphere. Rol. 1 heed them not. A fter some packages, which should have arrived for the lady Mary, I have come to day. Lnn. Truly, fair sir, they should be here ; but John Auchtermuchty, our common carrier, hath not yet arrived. They shall be sought for, and put into your boat. [A tall old woman, in a high-crowned hat and muffler^ passes by^ and fixes her eyes on Roland for a moment.^ By the soul of Celsus, it is old mother Nicneven her- self: — she hath come to beard me within mine own bounds, {she goes o^.) Fire and faggot shall one day be her welcome. RoL In the name of Heaven, who is she ? Lun. Men call the old hag a prophetess — " I " do scarce believe she could foretel when a " brood of chickens will chip the shell. Men "' say she reads the heavens — my black bitch *' knows as much of them when she sits baying *' the moon. Men pretend the old wretch is a *' sorceress, a witch, and what not" — Inter nos^ I will not contradict a rumour which may bring her to the stake. Rol. Why would you harm her, if you belie'^ her guiltless. 6 Bt MARY Luji. Because, fair sir, she hath a heavier guilt upon her ; inasmuch as she haunts the chambers of the sick, giving them trash of herbs and drinks and cordials, thereby disturbing the regular progress of a learned and artificial cure, with her syrups and juleps, and my lady What- you-call-um"s powder, and worthy dame Tra- shem's pill. But no more on't. Mother Nic- neven and I shall meet one day, and she shall know there is danger in dealing with the doctor. Rol. It is a true word, and many have found it so. Lun. Amuse yourself, fair sir, with looking on the sports. I must be showing myself abroad. [Mixes "With the throng. A damsel, closely muffled^ approaches Roland, who looks at her earnestly. She beckons him, and he follows her. Rol. What wouldst ihou, my fair damsel? Whither dost thou lead me ? — 1 would I could see her form or face, (^aside.) Girl. Follow, and you shall learn. Rol. [aside) There was something in the tone of the voice like Catharine's, yet it can- not be. At all risks, I'll follow her. Tell me your name and lineage. May I not crave as much ? Girl. You may, but it is a question whether or no I shall answer you. Rol. Perhaps I know more of you than you think. Girl. Prove it. Rol. The tirst letter of your name may be S. and the last N.— Girl. Admirably guessed — go on ! OF SCOTLAND. 63 RoL You can switch men's eyes out of their heads as well as hearts out of their bosoms. Remove your muffler. Girl. I may not. Rol. Then let me follow you to some se- questered place. Girl, You dare not. Rol. How ? Dare not ! Girl. No. 1 go to Mother Nicneven's ; and she is witch enough to rein the horned devil, with a red silk thread for a bridle, and a rowan- tree switch for a whip. Rol. Go on ; I'll follow you ! Girl. Let it be at some distance, then ! (^Exit. Rol. Am I always to be the dupe of mystery and witchcraft. At any risk, Til sift this secret to the bottom. {Exit, Scene — Interior of Mother Nicneveii^s cottage. Magdalen Gr^me, disguised as Mother A7c- neven, seated on a stool, and m-atching a de- caying fire. She clasps her hands, and bends, as in devotion. Mag. " Droop and decay, thou subtile ele^ ment ; *' New fuel will relight thy faded embers, '* And reassure thy brightness : but what food, *' What kindling touch, can reinspire, once quench'd, *' The flame of life in this unconscious bosom. *' We are but pilgrimers on Time's long waste, 64 MARY «* And few, and scatttered wide, the resting places, ** Between the cradle and the tomb. Hard care, " Travel, and withering woes, and midnight vigils " Have sped me on my way. I see the goal, " And long to reach it ! — But,'* why comes he not! Surely, the rustic girl I set to lure him Hath not deceived me. No, I hear her step. Enter from door behind^ the girL Girl. He's close behind me. Mag. Away, good wench, away. (^Exit girl. Enter Roland Grj:me, hastily looking around him. RoL She has out-witted me, by all my hopes. Mag. {rising and advancing.) What seek'st thou here ? Rol. {looking earnestly at her, as she takes cff the hat which hid her face.) 1 seek — 1 seek — angels and saints — it is — Mag. Yes, Roland, the decayed — devoted — feeble. But never-fainting ! — tho' with watching spent, Still doom'd to watch and wander. Silly boy ! Let not thine eyes chase shadows ; her thou seekest Is but a rustic instrument instructed To bring thee hither. Rol. But, resolve me, mother ; How do 1 see you here ? The dame Nicneven And Magdalen — Mag. Are one ! Since rebel power OF SCOTLAND. 65 Immur'd our Q,ueen within yon dark gray walls, Here I have fix'd my home. If I have toil'd By day, by night, when the red sunbeam scorch'd. Or midnight dews fell round ; barefoot and lonely, If I have struggled thro' the thorny glen, Or crossed the tedious hills, which lie between Kinross and Kennaquhair — it was to serve My earthly mistress. Rol. " You bewilder me ! *' Could you have called up knights at every step, *' Horsed and accoutred, lances in their hands, *' And courage in their hearts, it might have served her. ** If woman's breath could batter down these towers, *' Break iron locks, bid massive gates unclose *' And yield their prisoner ; or, still harder task, *' Melt the heart-hardness of Lochleven's mis- tress, — <« Then you might serve her ! Mag. *' Those iron locks may break ; " Those gates unclose ; armed and accoutred knights *' Rush to the service yet, while the foul trai- tors " Dream on in false security !" Rol. What mean you ? Mag. The hour is come, when I will speak no more 6* 66 MARY In dark and mystic phrase. Know then, my son, The friends of Scotland's sovereign are in arms, And now on thee, the orphan page, the eyes Of marshall'd armies turn. Rol. On me, my mother! Mag. Ay, on thee ! for this, these shrivelled arms, When, to the howling of the winter's wind. The forests shook their desolated limbs, Cradled and cberish'd thee ! Child of my hope, Now my reward is near. Rol. You forget, my mother. — Bound, as I am, in duty and in love, To do all lawful service you, my Q,ueen, Or Scotland's weal demands ; I cannot — dare not Betray my trust. Mag. " Then see thy sovereign perish! *' Nay, at the bidding of the heartless traitors, *' With whom thou leaguest, present the poi- son'd chalice, " And be thyself her executioner. False boy ! " So hast thou turned my hope to black despair, *' My wine to gall, my bread of joy to wo, " As thou hast trampled on my heart's best wishes, " Tread my gray hairs beneath thy feet.'* Rol. " By Heaven ! " Sooner than scathe shall fall on her or thee, " This arm of mine shall prove I wear a sword " For other purpose than an empty show." Mag. As thou esteemest an honourable fame, OP SCOTLAND. 67 All good men's prayers, and the approving smile Of youthful beauty— HQcre than these, my son, Would'st thoii obtain the love of Catharine Seyton — Rol. Catharine! — Oh, no! Down, down, am- bitious heart ! What deed can elevate a nameless man-* A foundling — child of charity — to mate With high-born maids ? Would'st thou pre- vail, my mother. Dispel the gloomy mystery of my birth, And free me from the cold, inglorious load Which vveighs my struggling wishes to the earth. Mag. What said'st thou, stubborn boy ? — Would 1 prevail ? The sword thou wear'st ivill testify the vow By which 'twas purchased. For thy birth, suf- fice it, When the fit time arrives, thou may'st be found Companion meet for Scotland's loftiest born ! But, who comes here ! Enter Father Ambrose, habited as a man-at- arms. Father A. " Salve /" Save vou, my sister ! Mag. ''Salveter Fattier A. I sought you, sister Magdalen, and this youth ! (To Roland.) Dost thou not bear a packet from George Douglas ? Rol. 1 do ; but may to none deliver it, Without some token of his right to ask it. tB MARY Father J. 'Tis well! The packet which I ask, my son, Is the report irom Douglas to his father. Will that suffice ? Rol. [giving the packet.) It will : (^Father *i. breaks it open.) What have 1 done! Should I have erred in my commission. Alag. Peace ! Murmuring, suspecting, ever ! Father A. Heaven be praised ! All's well ! The time holds for to-morrow- night! Bo!. What time? what holds ? have 1 beea duped — deceived ? Father A. You have my word and token ! Rol. A stranger's word — It may be, too, a surreptitious token ! 1 must have better surety, or, by Heaven — Mag. Rash boy! here, by the love 1 bore thee once. With my own hand I could destroy thee — Father A. Be patient, sister ! Roland, look on me ; Are these the features of a perfect stranger ? Does this wan forehead, furrowed deep with care — This voice, whose wonted greeting or reproof Cheer'd thy dull zeal, and check'd thy frequent errors — Does this changed, faded form, in its swift ruin, Nor line, nor time retain, nor corporeal motion, That wakes some sweet responsive chord of memory — Some indisUnct relationship of heart OF SCOTLAND. 6^9 Rol, I am bewildered ! Your manner, voice and mien Recall the image — no — no — that cannot be — Plumed casque, and sword and buckler, wore nor wielded That holy man, (^Father A. takes off" his casque.) Martyrs and saints of Heaven ! (^Dropping on his knee.) My spiritual father, bless — oh bless your son ! Father A. Arise, my son ! "the Abbot of Saint Mary's, When he resigned the mitre and the staff. Gave back to Heaven the delegated powers Those outward tokens symbol'd. Yet, my son, The blessing of an exile fall upon thee. RoL Resolve me, father, whence this suddea change ? Already is the sheepfold violated, The shepherd smitten, and his scanty flock Driven forth and scattered ? Father A. List awhile, my son ! Scarce had our sister Magdalen and yourself LeftKennaquhair, and scarce the hollow chime Pealed thro' the shattered aisles the midnight hour, When Morton's minions came. My brother's power. Too weak to turn aside the desolation, Opened a way for my escape ; and now The forest satyr and the owl inhabit Saint Mary's sinctuary. Mag. Eternal vengeance Wither the desolating fiends ! Rol. Monsters I {apause.) 70 MAR? But, father, solve the mystery of the packet ; For whom was it designed ? Father A. For me, my son ! {Roland starts.) Is not my word sufficient surety now ? RoL Then George of Douglas is Father A. The Queen's true friend. Rol, And to his father false ! Father. A. To traitors false ! Foul-tongued, and fouler-hearted traitors ! False Where truth were treason! Roland — by the faith Which leads the erring spirit up to Heaven ! — The orisons for thee these lips have uttered ! — The memory of those moments oft and precious When I have pour'd instruction in thine ear ! — By the bright lingering spark which yet sur- vives Of friendship's sacred flame \ — ^-At Mary's voice — At Scotland's cry — unsheathe a willing sword, And lend thy arm to cleave rebellion's crest. Mag. Listen to her, who, save a mother's throes, For thee, hath all a mother's travail known. By all the love I bore thee, when fierce hate Pursued thine infant life ! " By the long wan- derings — «* The drops of passion's agony — the groans — " The weary hours of wakefulness and pain — ^' Thirst — hunger — faintnesses — which thoa hast caused me !" Stand for thy Queen ! Rd. Enough — enough, my mother ! Enough, my father ! Here, before high Heaven, OF SCOTLAND. 71 This arm of mine, and this my trusty sword, I give to Mary's service I Mag. (^embracing him.) My darling son ! My pride ! my glorious recompence ! — Away ! Waste not the precious hours of preparation ! Prayer, vigil, fasting, are assigned to me, And I would to my task. (Exi^. RoL What task is mine ? Father A. Pursue her not, my son, but follow me. I will unfold our plans as we proceed ; The day grows old apace, and your delay, Too long protracted, will excite suspicion. Come on, my son ; our cause is just and holy ; To fall in't were a glorious martyrdom — While to succeed, reclaims our broken shrines, Restores the throne its rightful occupant, And gives to Scotland peace. Rol. Come life — come death ! My faith is pledged ! Henceforth, the foes of Mary Are Roland's enemies, and this his watch-word— A sovereign's freedom and a subject's love ! {Exeunt Father Ambrose and Roland.) ENJ) of act II. 72 MARY ACT III. Scene — Jin Anti-chamber in Lochleven Castle. Roland Graeme and Catharine Seyton, meeting, Cath. Well met, my slippery page ! methinks 'twere easier To grip the subtile wind, than catch thine ear, And hold it for a moment. Rol. Your will, fair dame ! Cath. I wish to ask of Kinross — what's the news ? Rol. The sports went merrily — the chamber- lain Strutted, chid roundly, spouted monstrous latin, And surgery still more monstrous. Catk. Pf*haw ! what care I How went the sports — or how the chamberlaiQ Discharg'd his mimic office ? Saw you none, Or nothing of more intimate concernment ? B.oL By the mass, fair maid, I did : — a juggler, Who with his craft so guU'd the multitude That the loons swore — nay, lady, frown not thus, Kor curl your lip with scorn — I saw — I saw One whom they call'd a witch, and from her lips I gained dark phrases and ambiguous hints. Cath, And she was — speak, Roland, speak — Rol. Yes, lady fair, She was — a woman OF SCOTLAND. 73 Cath. Your wit is hasty, sir ; I grieve I lack the spirits to enjoy it. Rol. Then, to be serious : confidence, fair Catharine, Is to be won by confidence alone. From all this morning's conferences and councils I was excluded, as one on whom mistrust Had laid its gloomy interdict. Not alone The heart in which it dwells, suspicion blights, But withers where it falls — to foe turns friend, Creating two-fold desolation, Cath- Roland! If aught has been withheld — Rol. If awg/i^ withheld! Was aught communicated ? By my sword !— My sword! — Well thought of, lady ; was it given For service which becomes a manly arm, Or to hang idly by my side, till rust Should eat away iis gilding ? Cath. Hot-blooded yonth ! What deeds ol thine demand implicit trust ? And if one foolish person v/eakly thinks Thy blood is pure — thy faith — thy honour true; And on her proffered pledge, the Queen resolves To try thy fealty — it perchance were easier To prove than justify the fact. Rol. And this friend — This only one whose kind and generous heart Did Roland justice — te;! me, dearest Catharine, To whom i owe so large a debt ? Ccih, Nay, Roland, If your own heart — Rol, (^dropping on one knee^ and seizing her hand,) Beloved, angelic sweetness ! 7 74 MARY, Cath If your own heart discover not, I say (^disengaging her hand.) 'Tis most ungrateful, since the Lady Fleming— Rol. (starting on his feet,) Fleming! ungene- rous girl ! why mock me thus ? ** The maiden wrought in yonder figured tapestry *' Would sooner quit those ancient walls, and plead, '* Than would the Ladj Fleming." Why damp my hopes ? Why dissipate the vision you created ? There is but one to whose high estimation My heart aspires ; and foiled in that ambition, What are the Queen's or Scotland's feuds to me ! Cath. For shame — for shame — RoL Why check my ardour then ? Why, when the enchantment of a single word Had won me to the fortunes of the Q,ueen, Destroy the dear delusion with a breath, And set my love and loyalty adrift, Both helm and anchor lost ? Cath» I could not hear The cause which kindles every Scottish heart Named in conjunction with a selfish motive. Who serves his God, his country, and his Queen, Requires no advocate for woman's love. She whom he singles out becomes his debtor, And owes the recompense her life repays. Rol, You hold a glorious prize — be mine the venture ! Now by my hope ofheaven and thee, sweet maidj Henceforth, the quarrel of the Queen is mine, And I'll embrace it to the death. Cath, Will you ? (taking his hand.) OF SCOTLAND, *75 Will you, indeed ? Oh be but firm in purpose, As thou art prompt and bold, and after ages Shall hail thee Scotland's saviour! — But the Queen ! — Enter Q,ueen Mary and Lady Fleming. Mary, {as she enters, much agitated,) Chafed ! — Grant me patience, heaven ! Was't not enough To rob me of my child ? — These are rare times. When helpless infants are set up to thrust Liege mothers from their thrones ! Flem. Madam, be calm ! Alary. Talk not to me of calmness! can the doe See the fierce tiger fasten on her young. And yet, with all her impotence, be still While the red massacre goes on. Flem. My Queen !— Mary. I hen I am still a Queen ! so well, my Fleming ! [During' the latter part of this conversation, Catharine advances to the Queen, bends her knee, and gently taking her hand, kisses it, Roland places the chair and footstool, and steps back. Mary sees Catharine.^ Ah ! is it thou, ma petite mignone, Cath. Daughter of many kings, this youthful 'squire, Thro' me, makes tender of his hand and sword! {she beckons Roland, who advances.) Come, Roland, bend with me, before yourQueeo And offer your devotion. {Roland kneels beside her,') Rol. Gracious sovereigp ! 76 MARy Unknown as yet in council or the field I have no skill to boast, but heart and hand, In faith and bold devotion unsurpassed ! Mary, (^Giving one hand to Roland, and with the other arranging the locks on Catharine''s forehead,) Alas ! that you should mix your fates with mine ! And yet not so ! thro' you, Heaven bids me hope. Oh, faithful pair ! should we resume our throne, Shall we not have one day of blithesome bridal. Of which nor bride nor groom must now be named ? But he Blairgourie's barony shall have, And 'midst her locks shall twine the fairest pearls Lochlomond's depths have ever yielded ; and thou. Yes thou, ray Fleming, shalt, for my love, twine them ! (Roland and Catharine rise.) Flem- Alas ! my Queen, your thoughts stray far from hence ! Mary, They do ; but is it well to call them back! I will recal the vision : at that bridal, Mary shall lead a measure. Tell me, Fleming, For care hath marr'd my memory — at whose wedding We threaded last the merry branle ? Flem. Alas ! my queen ! Mary. What? Not help me out ? Thou art court-bred, my Fleming ; And best wilt understand another language — The Queen commands thee to remind her where She mingled with the merry dancers last ? OF SCOTLAND. 77 Fhm, Gracious Queen ! if I err not, at Holy- rood — The marriage of Sebastian ! Mary, {shrieks,) Traitress ! Would'st slay thy sovereign ? Call my French guards ! A moi — a moi — mes Fran^ais ! I am beset ! Oh ! they have killed my husband 1 rescue I rescue ! For Scotland's Queen !— We'll take the field ourself ! Warn Lothian — Fife — Saddle our Spanish barb ; And bid French Paris charge our petronel ! For better, as ourgrandsire fell at Flodden, To perish in the field, than, like our father, Die of a broken heart! Cath. Be patient, madam! {To Lady Fleming,) How could you call to mind her husband ? Mary. Husband ! what husband ? not the heir of France ! He's ill at ease — he cannot mount his horse ! — Not him of Lennox ! No, 'twas Orkney's Duke ! Bid him come hither, quick, and bring his lambs, Bowton, Black Ormiston, and Hay, of Talla, And Hob, his kinsman ! Fie, how swart they are ! And how they smell of sulphur ! RoL My gracious Queen ! Mary. What ! closetted with Moreton ! Nay, if 't be so — If Douglass and the Hepburn hatch together. When the bird breaks the shell, Scotland may tremble ! What says my Fleming ? Flem. Wilder and wilder still ? 7* 78 MARY ^Twere better we support her to her chamber. These paroxysms are not of long duration. Mary. Ba ! ha ! ha ! I said it would not fit ; That crown was made not for so small a head — Give him a diadem of — oh ! (^Overcome with fatigue^ sinks into the arms of Roland, <^c. who bear her off'. Scene. — A Chamber in the Castle. Enter George Douglass, as in deep thought. How heavily move the hours which step between The birth of hope and its maturity. Minutes like months, and months like ages creep, As if their wonted wings were featherless, And time itself stood waiting for the issue. Old Dryfesdale is sick — should Ambrose come He must hold watch ; and that will aid us well — He has the pass- word and the Douglass token, And cannot meet obstruction. Who come's here ? Enter Roland Gr£me. Roland ! welcome, my friend ! For by such name Upon the Abbot's faith I give you greeting. Rot. The noblest of the house of Douglass honours Whom thus he greets. How looks our enter- prise ? Dong, It wears a face of promise, if the father Deceive us not- Yet still one obstacle Remains to be o'ercome. Rol. Name it, Douglass. Doug. The castle keys ! To night, our lady mother OF SCOTLAND. 79 Herself retains them : and without their help Our schemes must prove abortive. EoL Methinks A little skill 1 have in handicraft Will serve us here. Oft at the armourer's forge, In Avenel Castle, I amused my hours In making iron toys. Some sundry keys 1 have with my apparel, which, with skill Combined, might pass unknown to sharper eyes Than boasts Lochleven's lady. Doug. Most excellent ! Prepare them instantly : the night advances : In half an hour the curfew will be rung : And at the Douglass mother's evening visit, The keys must be exchanged. RoL Be that my care. This night shall bring my skill and sleight to proof. {Exit Roland.') Doug. The page has proved a notable ally. EnterljkTiY Lochleven, /o//o'ii)ec? % a servant. Lady L. (as she enters,') A man at arms ! And from Sir William Douglas ! (Seeing Douglas,) Well found, my son ! (to ser- vant,) Go, and conduct him hither. A servant recommended by my son, Demands admittance to our presence. Re-enter servant, followed by Father Ambrose, and exit servant. Your name, good fellow ? Father A. (bozving^) Edward Glendinning. Lady L. Art of the Knight of Avenel's blood ' Father A. Aye, madam. 80 MARY Lady L. 'Tis well : by his own works and worth approved From low condition he hath raised himself To rank exalted. Welcome is his kinsman ! Doubtless, you follow the true faith ? Father A. Doubt it not. Lady L. Hast thou no letter from my sin ? Father A. None, Lady ! A private token, merely. Lady L. I would hear it. In what does it consist ? Father A» An old bard's words — " O, Douglas, Douglas I Tender and true." Lady L. Aye, trusty Sir John Holland ; kiadar heart Ne'er prompted minstrelsy : the Douglas honour Was ever on his harp-string. Glendinning ! Fearest thou the night air ? Doug. Not a jot. I'll warrant ! He comes in happy time, my lady mother, To fill the vacant space of Dryfesdale. Lady L. But trust him only with the outer ward, 'Till from our son we gather more of him. Father A. Lady, fear not : I shall fulfil the trust Your honoured son reposed in me. Lady L. I doubt not. My son, conduct him to the buttery ; Let much be made of him. (curfew tolls.) I mu^t away ; The tolling of the curfew summons me To do a hateful duty. {Exeunt at separate doors.) OF SCOTLAND. 81 Scene. — The Queen''s anti-chamher. Enter Roland, with a hunch of keys. Rol. Kincl saints are thinking of me, by the mass! These are the Castle-keys' nice counterfeit ; As ponderous and as rusty too. Smile on, Propitious fates ; and, at the morning's dawn. We'll trip it on the greensward merrily. (Pwfs the keys in his pocket,^ Enter Catharine, from the inner chamber, with a lamp. Cath. Repose and silence have restored the Queen. Roland, well met ! Ascend that balcony, And instant place this lamp within the window, And tell what lights reply across the lake. My bosom tells me we shall see two gleams. ^Roland takes the lamp and exit, then re-appears at the window with a light. Two lights are seen to glimmer on the distant mar- gin of the lake. Rol. I see two lights ; and if I rightly guess They gleam from old Blinkhoolie's cottage win- dows. Cath. Right, Roland, and like saint Elmo's lights, in storms, They kindle hope and consolation. {One light is extinguished.) Rol. See, One of the lights is out. " 5'i MARV Cath. Oh, say you so ! The hour of freedom is at hand — come down. {Roland descends and enters,) The boat has left the shore. Rol. Propitious saints ! Invest it with a sevenfold shield of night. Enter Queen Mary and Lady Fleming. Cath. My gracious liege, heaven prospers our designs. The signal of deliverance gleams. Yon light Proclaims our friends already on the lake. For God's sake, madam, droop not now I Mary. Alas ! My mind misgives that I shall die in bondage. How can we cheat or bribe the dragon who re- tains The keys of this our prison ? Rol. Call up, my liege, The hundred spirits of your kingly sires, And bear yourself with fortitude. These keys, If Catharine will beguile the lady's ear, Shall be the substitutes of those she bears, And then the door of liberty is open. Mary. Oh, Roland Graeme, how many have proved false ! Be true to me in this my hour of need. A soothsayer in France foretold me once, That 1 should die in prison. Heaven forefend That his prognostic should be now fulfilled ! Cath. Oh, are you not a queen ? and wer't not better To die in one bold struggle after freedom, Than wither in the heat of poisonous drugs OF SCOTLAND. 83 By some base hands administered ? Mary. It were ! I will be firm, and bear me like myself. Tiiis awful venture claims my utmost courage, But I will be prepared. Cath. Timely resolved ; For see, my liege, here comes our lady hostess. [Enter Lady Lochleven and servants^ bear, ing dishes^ '::i'ho place them on the table and exeunt. Enter servant with a white wand^ bearing the keys, which he lays on the ta- ble, bows and exit. During the first part of the conversation which ensues, the lady is OC" cupied in tasting the various dishes.] Mary, We may not mourn the smallness of our court When in herself our hostess thus unites The offices of Almoner and Steward, With captain of our guard. Lady L. Not inclination, But prudence, let me say, necessity, Hath deck'd me with this triple character. Old Dryfesdale is bedrid. Alary. And George of Douglas — Lady L. Feels such repugnance to approach your grace, (And much do I commend his wariness) That for this evening I have given consent He may excuse himself {She is about to take up ihe keys.) Rol. Holy martyrs ! What ligh:s illume the church yard--- Or do some fancied ghmm