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 1 E U D A L TIMES; 
 
 THE COURT OF JAMES THE THIRD. 
 
 !2l Sfottbl} §i0tovical ipiag. 
 
 BY REV. JAMES WHITE. 
 
 WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, CAST OF CHARACTERS, 
 COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, ETC. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 "WM. TAYLOR & CO., 18 Ann-Streot. 
 
 BALTIMORE, MD. • 
 WM. & HENRY TAYLOR, Sun Iron Buildings. 
 
 PRICE 12 1-2 CENTS. 
 

 i 
 

 EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ' Feudal Times, or the Conn of James the Third," the thh-d 
 dramatic effort of the Rev. Mr. White, was produced at the 
 Sadlers' Wells Theatre, London, on the 18th of February. Ex- 
 ■cept that it betrays marks of carelessness in some of its minor 
 features, it is undoubtedly superior as an acting play to its 
 predecessor, " The King of the Commons." Many of the scenes 
 are eminently striking; but others are somewhat marred in con- 
 sequence of the too comrQon fault of dramatists in not rendering 
 sufficiently apparent the motive of the action. 
 
 Of the literaa-y merits of this play, the author may well be 
 proud. It contains much poy/erful and condensed writing, and 
 is studded v/ith many gems of poetry, of a ver}^ pure water. 
 Who can read the follov/ing extracts, and fail to acknowledge 
 that the poetical genius of the author is of a high standard: 
 
 " Thanks for the song. I love the roundeJays 
 That speak of sunny spots or shady dells, 
 Where wars and rufflers are unheard of eiver^ 
 Oh, what a blessed hour for this poor land, 
 If music should be native to its glens, 
 And rise from hall and cottage, yalc and hilJ, 
 Like a pleased nation's prayea- of .thaiikfulness 
 For peace and joy !" 
 
 " We've rid through the thick night, and see at la^ 
 The opening sky, where the awakened sun 
 Looks from his cradl-e in the curtained east. 
 How still and silent is this morning hour, 
 As if, in breathless eapeetatiou, 
 It heard the distant coming of the day !" 
 
 Of a similar high character is Cockrane's description of thfc 
 assassination of 3'^oung Giuliano De Medici — ^^au episode happiJ v 
 iBtroduced, and which, whilst strictly subservient to the feelings 
 and situation of the person uttering it, has also the effect ot 
 •showing, that by his former consort with nobles and princes, he 
 is not unworthy of his present belted honours. 
 
 Oachrane and Margaret Randolph are the .two promb-ant claa- 
 
W EDITORIAL rNTEODUCTIOPf. 
 
 racters of the piece, and their conception betraj^s genius, and 
 their execution skill of no mean ability. They are full of noble 
 and loity feelings ; and placed as they are in contrast with the 
 turbulent and rugged spirits of the fifteenth century, who eared 
 for little else than what pertained " to feats of broil and battle," 
 they must awaken a responsive feeling in th.e breast of every 
 lover of the true and beautiful. The jesting, yet reflective spi- 
 rit of Margaret in the earlier scenes of the play^ is admirably 
 pourtrayed. Here is her simile of the characters of Angus and 
 hennox : 
 
 " Queen. You forget 
 That young Lord LeiiJiox is a close ally 
 Qf Aug us. 
 
 Marg. That's the veyy thing I thought, 
 loth are disciples of the kennel : one 
 A sage grave dog, long-eared, and deep of jswlj 
 The other, a pert spaniel^, yaffing round, — 
 And excellent companions; one to roase 
 The game, and one to tear it down." 
 
 Nor is this jesting spirit at all incompatible with that elevated, 
 dignified, and heroic spirit she presents, wlien the deeper impul- 
 ses of the woman have been called into action. The gradual de- 
 velopment of these feelings, until slie rises to the very height of 
 heroic sublimity, is rem^arkabl'y well carried out. "We quote one 
 brief passage, which she utters in describing those who jog along 
 from day to day, never elevating their tlioughts above the petty 
 things around them : 
 
 " A happy, pleasant,, easy, dear good woaian^ 
 Who'd gape and quake as if she saw a spirit. 
 If a great Thought — a. thing that fills the heart. 
 That lifts the soul, that shakes the poor frail limbs, — 
 Entered her brain, Susbed her pale brow aad cheeks,. 
 And filled her eye with tears." 
 
 The characters of James- and Angus are of secondary impor- 
 tance to the two before mentioned; but the latter especially, in 
 the hands of a good actor, is capable of being rendered very ef- 
 fective. We could have wished, lx)wever, that the character 
 of Angus had been preierv^ed to the end more consistent. It 
 seems scarcely in keeping with a character possessing any noble 
 and chivalrous feelings, that at the moment of being pardoned 
 'by the King, he should utter false promises of allegiance, and 
 threaten vengeance against a brave man who h.ad only perform- 
 ed his duty. History speaks more favourably of the renowned 
 ""■ Bell-the-Cat;" but Mr. White, with other dramatists, must be 
 
EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION, V 
 
 allowed some liberty with history, in order to facilitate a suc- 
 cessful denouement of the play. 
 
 A London critic, who witnessed the first representation of 
 this play, says: "To Miss Laura Addison — giving her, as a 
 lady, the first place — and Mr. Phelps, the greatest praise is due. 
 The part of Margaret was one eminently calculated to bring out 
 all the best points of Miss Addison's acting. We have not often 
 heard, of late, such genuine applause as that which greeted her 
 very vivid description of the combat, as she is supposed to look 
 at it from the window ; indeed, so continuous was the approba- 
 tion of the audience, that it interfered with the progress of the 
 scene. Her interview with Cochrane-^ at the end of the piece, 
 she also rendered very powerful and effective. Mr. Phelps 
 played the hero most carefully, and gave every line with the 
 nice perception of the gentleman and the scholar. His imj)res- 
 sive reading of the speech commencing— 
 
 " And what is life?— 
 A flight by a fKjor bird, 'tween two black cliffs 
 Across some narrow valley ; for brief space 
 Sunshine falls on its wings; a minute more, 
 And all is dark again !" 
 
 was warmly recognised. Mr. H. Marston's mannerism suited 
 the part of the irresolute, effeminate James, admirably ; and a 
 better representative of the rugged, fier}^ Angus, could not have 
 been found than Mr. G. Bennett. Miss Cooper, Mr. Graham, 
 and Mr. Hoskins, contributed also to the general good effect ; 
 there was a quaintness in the acting of the latter gentleman, ve- 
 ry diverting. 
 
 *'■ At the fall of the curtain, the applause was loud and univer- 
 sal. Mr. Phelps and Miss Addison were called for, and appear- 
 ed ; so was Mr. Bennett ; and, finally, the author was compelled 
 to bow firom his private box. The success of " Feudal Times" 
 is unquestionable ; and reflects the highest credit, as we have 
 stated, upon all parties concerned in its production. The house 
 was densely crowded, not a corner of standing rocm being left 
 vacant when the curtain rose." 
 
OAST OF CHARACTERS, 
 
 As performed at Sadlers' Wells Theatre, London, Feb. 18th, 184T. 
 
 King James III. of Scotland 
 
 Lord Angus - . - 
 
 liord Gairlies 
 
 Lord Drunxmond 
 
 Lord Lennox 
 
 Lord Gray 
 
 Walter Cochrane, Earl of Mar 
 
 Bishop ef Dunkald 
 
 Mr, 
 
 H. MarstoA 
 
 G. Bennett, 
 
 Graham. 
 
 Branson, 
 
 Hoskins, 
 
 Knight. 
 
 Phelps. 
 
 Mellon. 
 
 Qaeen Margaret - * - - Miss Cooper. 
 
 Lady Drmnmond - - - - Mrs. H. Marston 
 Margaret Randolph - . - - Miss Lam-a AddisiyC. 
 Lords, Heralds, Attendants,. Favourites, &c. 
 
 The year 1482 is the date at which this play is laid,, and the 
 Costumes should be of that periods 
 
 EXITS AND ENTRANCES. 
 It. means Right; L. Left: R. D. Right Door ; L. D. Left Door f 
 §. E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle Door. 
 
 RELATIVE POSITIONS. 
 
 R., meaws Eight; L., Left ; C, Centre ; R. C, Right of Centre $ 
 
 L. C, Left of Centre. 
 
 iV.B Passaged marked with Inverted Commas, are usually omHted in the 
 
 representationt 
 
FEtDAL TIMES: 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE COURT OF JAMES THE THIRD. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene I. — In front of Rolyrood. 
 Enter Lennox and Gtairlies, l. 
 
 Lien. What should we fear 1 
 
 Gair. Loud talking, my Lord Lennox — 
 That's what we should have fear of. 
 
 hen. Not a whit. 
 Here's a poor king, led like a managed horse, 
 By Cochrane. What is Cochrane \ 
 
 Gair. He is a man, 
 A bold and wise one. 
 
 Len. A mechanical ! 
 A fellow that plans houses, that builds bridges, 
 That levels roads, that reared the battlements 
 On this old Holyrood. 
 
 Gair. [Pointing up.] That built, no less, 
 Yon donjon. 
 
 Len. Well, he shall not rule us long ; 
 He's been our master since our noble prince, 
 Bold Mar, died suddenly. And Albany, 
 Our other prince, is banished. Come, Lord Gairlies, 
 'Tis pitiful to yield to the base yoke 
 Of such a one as Cochrane. We must wake 
 This king from his soft dreams, his books, and songs» 
 To do us justice. 
 
 Gair. Pray to heaven he wake not. 
 If he must do us justice ! Good, my lord. 
 
8 FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 [ACTl 
 
 Where is that band of names you wot of? 
 
 Len. Here ! 
 
 Gair. Oh ! keep it close. It strikes me 'twere more 
 wise 
 To pray that James go booking, dreaming on ; 
 For "justice" is an ugly-sounding word. 
 
 Len. I tell you, if Lord Angus would consent 
 To wed me to his ward, to Margaret Randolph — 
 
 Gail'. Does he refuse % 
 
 Len. Oh, he would give the girl. 
 If I'd forego the lands. If he'd agree, 
 And I had all the Randolphs at my beck, — 
 Eh ] James might waken then, — we'd have no fear 
 Of justice then, — no, nor of Cochrane neither. 
 
 Gair. Hush ! here comes Angus. 
 
 Enter Angus, r. 
 
 Ang. Give you good day, my lords. 
 Heard ye the news toward ? 
 
 Len. Ha, what is it ] 
 . Ang. The Earl of Mar has come to life again. 
 
 Len. How ! was it false, then 1 was the prince net slain 1 
 
 Ang. Slain prince or not, there lives the earl of Mar, 
 Nobly attended, richly armed ; e'en now 
 He's coming down the High Street. 
 
 Gair. There's a look 
 Within your eyes, that suits not with the news ; — 
 Is John of Mar, our Scottish prince, alive % 
 
 Ang. No. But our Scottish prince, a mightier man, 
 For that the king is but his shadow, and we 
 His slaves and vassals — Walter Cochrane lives. 
 
 Gair. And he is Earl of Mar ! 
 
 Len. The mason cut ! 
 Let him chip stones. You're jesting, Angus ? 
 
 Ang. Look you, 
 My l6rds. I never had a fame for jesting; 
 If I had been so lucky, and could trip 
 A score or two of verses from the tongue, 
 It might have served me better. Listen here : 
 The king has made this Cochrane belted earl. 
 And called him Mar. Power never sank so low, 
 Nor pride climbed up so high ; the king and he 
 
Scene I j 
 
 FEUDAL TIMES. 9 
 
 Are brothers — nay, he's something more than brother, 
 And leads him as he Hsts. 
 
 Lcn. Come king, come devil, 
 I'll bear't no longer. 
 
 Gair. Gentle lord, be still : 
 Draw back ; they're coming. 
 
 Ang. [Looking up the High Street^ An' he had been 
 born 
 A noble, he'd ha' borne him nobly. Pity 
 Such a proud mien should own no redder blood 
 Than a base churl's ! He bears him like a man. 
 And has an eye that — Lennox, in your ear — 
 "When will you have so proud a glance as that % 
 
 [The lords retire, c. 
 
 Enter King James, Cochrane, and Attendants, l. 
 
 James. I wish I were a prince of Italy, 
 To see new towers rise in the balmy air. 
 And hear soft music all the livelong day. 
 Ah ! Cochrane, what a happier lot than mine 
 Is wise Lorenzo's — the magnificent— 
 The star of Florence ! How I envy him ! 
 
 Coch. He has great duties, and he does them greatly, 
 And so is happy. 
 
 James. Painters, sculptors, poets. 
 Are round him ever ; eyes where genius glows, 
 And lips where love is cradled. 
 
 Coch. No, not ever ; 
 These are for pleasure hours ; his working time 
 Has other objects — wrongs to remedy — 
 To vindicate the law, and cast his shield 
 Over the powerless, — and with an armed hand 
 To daunt the oppressor. Think, sir, you're a King ! 
 
 James. A king — a Scottish King ! Oh, let us talk 
 Of the soft skies and perfume-loaded air ; — 
 I know what you would say — I cannot do them : 
 I would I coQld. I have no heart for brawls. 
 I wish I had been born a peasant boy, 
 On the clear Arno — anything but this. 
 Stay near me, Walter. 
 
 Ang. [Advancing.] I've a suit, my liege. 
 
 James. Have you. Lord Angus ? I have never seen you 
 That you had not a suit. 
 
10 FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 [Act I 
 
 Ang. My liege, I've urged it 
 A. hundred times. 
 
 James. Speak to Lord Mar, I pray you: 
 He'll hear your suit. 
 
 Ang. Sir! mean you Master Cochrane 1 
 
 James. I mean my friend — I mean — but psha ! psha ! 
 psha ! 
 What should they know of friendship ] I've referred you 
 To Walter, Earl of Mar, my counsellor. 
 
 Ang. It's not about a house, an't please you, sir 
 A Douglas asks an audience of his king. 
 
 James. Now, wake us not, Lord Angus ; wake us nof ! 
 You think, because we deal not in loud words 
 And scowling looks, that we are free of gall, — 
 A cooing dove, a lamb. Now, by the saints. 
 You've touched a chord has roused the devil in us. 
 You sneer at what we've done, — you ! 'Tis enough 
 To awake the dead ; you sneer at Walter Cochrane ! 
 You, who can scarcely spell your proper name; 
 A mindless, soulless, selfish, boastful thing ! 
 Begone, sir! — Come, Lord Mar, lend me your arm; 
 It hurts me to be angry. — Get you gone ! 
 
 Cocli. Nay, listen to his suit ; for what he says 
 Of rae, forgive it. Listen to his suit. 
 
 James. I listen to his suit '\ no, not a word ! 
 What ! is a man to trample on my heart. 
 To speak against my friend, and such a friend ! — 
 And then to plague me with his suitss % No, no ! 
 I'd rather be a friend, a loving friend, 
 Than the best, calmest, coldest, stoniest king 
 That ever had great wisdom, but no soul. 
 I will not hear you. If you've aught to say, 
 We'll hear it through Lord Cochrane, Earl of Mar; 
 And so we leave you. — Come, my lord. 
 
 Cocli. I follow. \_'Ex'tt James, \.. 
 
 [Coch. snakes obeisance to Angus.^ I wait your lordship's 
 orders. 
 
 Ang. Oh, for orders ! 
 We wait on yours. The time has long gone by 
 For vs to give our orders. Some years since, 
 It was for nobles to command, not beg. — 
 What say you, Gairlies ? 
 
;&'«;i:ne 1.] 
 
 FEUDAL TIMES. 11 
 
 Gair. I tbink Cochrane here 
 Bids fairly, 
 
 Len. So think I ; mid if he'd deign 
 To speak to James about that wardenship, 
 I would not think a pound or two of gold 
 Too much to pay his kindness. 
 
 Coch. Ever thus ! 
 They knov/ me not, they will not know me.— Lords, 
 I veiled my bonnet to your lineages 
 And your proud names — my own I know is humble ^ 
 I wished to serve you — wished to «how to you 
 That our king's heart is as a king's should be — 
 Open to all. You cast me off, you wrong me— 
 You waken other feelings, A King's sword 
 Has touched my shoulder; a King's hand has bound 
 The broad belt of an Earl upon my breast s 
 I banish from my thoughts all humbleness. 
 My lords, what would you % 
 
 Len. \Asidc.,] Curse him, what a look ! 
 He'll daunt old Angus. 
 
 Ang. Now you're like a man, 
 And, by my soul, I've looked on far-come Earls 
 Might envy your high bearing. What I v/ould 
 Is this : that vaunting menials bar not up 
 The path to James's favour ; let the hind 
 Stick to his plough, the shepherd to his flock, 
 The mason (frown not, Cochrane,) to his trowel. 
 
 Coch. Lord Angus, if I frowned, I meant it not; 
 You taunt me — you are welcome ; for your words 
 Are light as feathers weighed against the truth. 
 Eight years ago I left my modest home. 
 And went to other lands. I taught me there 
 New arts, unknown in this unsoftened clime ; 
 But glowing in the light of southern suns. 
 With grandeur gathered from the power of Thought^ 
 I' sat at Buonarotti's honoured feet. 
 And learned that there's a vivifying soul 
 In the deep heart of man, that flings itself 
 In glory on the Dome that lifts to heaven 
 Its massive form, poised in the middle air; 
 Or on the storied aisle, vast, holy, dim, 
 Fit dwelling-place for prayer and penitence : 
 
12 FEUB-AL TIMES'. 
 
 [Act I 
 
 I leaiTiecltJie" cligmty and power of Art 
 To elevate and awe. Yet Angelo 
 Is but a mason — rather, he's a god ! 
 
 Afig. He may be what he likes ; it matters not 
 Whether he is a god, or saint, or devil ; 
 But this I say ; if yo i were worth my sword, 
 I'd plead my cause myself. 
 
 CocJi. Not worth your sword ! 
 Hash man, you've said the word ! Now, here I standi 
 Belted and spurred^ a knight and gentleman, 
 And there's my glove. I tell you, this true sword 
 Has crossed a nobler than the Douglas's^ 
 Or Lennox's> or Gairlies' i which of you 
 Will lift if? I am ready, sword or spear^ 
 Mounted or all afoot. 
 
 A7ig. I take your glove , 
 And if you prove that you're no boasting churl, 
 But have crossed swords with a true noble, then 
 Welcome the hour that sees us at the work ! 
 J. haven't had my blade blood-specked for months. 
 And fain would see what colour yours is of. 
 
 Cock. Then, sir, I wait your bidding. Fare you well, 
 
 [Ex/t, L> 
 
 Ang. It's better this than paying a worthless dog- 
 To make away with him ; 'twill be a pleasure 
 To do it for myself. 
 
 Len. And saves the coin. 
 You could not get it done under a score 
 Of golden crowns. 
 
 Gair. But let us fix the time. 
 
 A)ig. So it be soon, fix when and where you like. 
 I must reach Nithsdale upon Saturday, 
 And slit this braggart's weasand ere I. go. [Exeunt, !>, 
 
 Scene II. — A room i?i Holy rood. 
 
 Enter the Queen, Lady Drummond, and Margaret 
 Randolph, r. 
 
 Queen. You're silent, Margaret. 
 Marg. I made up my mind 
 To be good company to-day, and listen. 
 
 Queen, But 'tis unkind. What would the forest be 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 FEUDAL TIMES. 13 
 
 Without its birds 1 the spring without its foam 1 
 The garden flowerless ? 
 
 Marg. All because a girl 
 Chooses, by way of gift and benison, 
 To hold her tongue ! Poor birds, poor spring, p6or flow- 
 ers ! 
 
 Queen. Nay, gentle Lady Drummond looks as though 
 You wrong her every time your lips are closed. 
 
 Lady D. And so she does : there's not a joy on earth 
 So great as listening to her merry laugh. 
 Laugh, pretty Margaret. 
 
 Marg. Ha ! ha ! Well, I laugh : 
 But will it please you tell me why I laugh ? 
 
 Lady D. Why, was there ever such a mad-cap girl ! 
 What have you got to do but laugh all day ] 
 You're young, and rich, and beautiful ! 
 
 Queen. For shame : 
 You're nothing but a courtly flatterer, — 
 You'll make dear Margaret proud. 
 
 Lady D. Oh, as for pride. 
 She's proud enough already ! 
 
 Marg. Pray, go on : 
 I'm anxious for some more such honeyed words. 
 I'm young — that's true; I'm rich — it may be so ; 
 And beautiful — and therefoi-e I should laugh ] 
 I think, dear Lady Drummond, you've rnissed out 
 A fourth, and fitting cause for happiness ; 
 1 have no glooming, frowning, cold-eyed lord, 
 To say, "Come, Margaret, here !" " Go, Margaret, there !" 
 " Do this — do that !" or, " Don't do this, nor that !" 
 
 Queen. She hits you there ; Lord Drummond ne'er was 
 drawn 
 So to the life. 
 
 Marg. Or, if I long for court, 
 Says, " Margaret, you must stay the next half year 
 In Drummond Tower." 1 wish I saw the man 
 Would give his orders so to Margaret Randolph ! 
 
 Queen. I doubt you not. 
 
 Marg. What is it you doubt not 1 
 
 Queen. That you do really wish you sav/ the man 
 That could command you so. 
 
 Marg. There's not alive 
 
14 FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 [Act I 
 
 The man would dare. 
 
 Qufen. Where is young Lennox gone ? 
 
 Marg. Into the stable — so, at least, I guess— • 
 To learn some better manners from his horse. 
 
 Queen. I know a better school. 
 
 Marg. Is it the kennel 1 
 He has very much the manners of a hound, 
 The graceful air, and deep soul-touching voice. 
 And valorous look — as if no Scottish hedge 
 Bore such a weapon as a cudgel. 
 
 Queen. Girl, 
 You speak too freely. 
 
 Marg. I ] Not I, not I ! 
 T answered a plain question. 
 
 Queen. You forget 
 That young Lord Lennox is a close ally 
 Of Angus, 
 
 Marg. That's the very thing I thought. 
 Both are disciples of the kennel : one, 
 A sage grave dog, long-eared, and deep of jowl; 
 The other, a pert spaniel, yaffing round ; 
 And excellent companions — one to rouse 
 The game, and one to tear it down. The fawn 
 Is a poor silly creature to submit. 
 
 Queen. It cannot help it. 
 
 Marg. Is there no deep ditch, 
 No foaming precipice of sheer descent. 
 No rock to dash its silly brains against, 
 Rather than — faugh ! faugh ! faugh ! — ^to cow'r and crouch 
 To yelping cur, or grim-jawed slot-hound 1 
 
 Queen. What ! 
 Does your old guardian's name not frighten you ? 
 Remember you're the ward of Angus, child. 
 
 Marg. I but remember I am Margaret Randolph, 
 Sole bearer of that name. Alas, alas ! 
 That the great Regent's sword should deck the wal 
 Of a poor orphan's house, and not one hand 
 Of his own kin to hold it ! 
 
 Queen. Let young Lennox 
 Try if his strength can wield it. 
 
 Marg. IMadam — but 
 I will not jest again. I pray you, madam, 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 FEUDAL TIMES. 15 
 
 Speak not of Lennox — speak not of that sword. 
 
 I will not laugh again : I was most wrong 
 
 To jest — 1 ne'er will jest again. [She retires, l. 
 
 Lady D. Fie, Margaret ! 
 
 Queen. Let her alone, dear Drummond. She not jest. 
 Nor laugh, nor sing 1 Why, she no more can help 
 Being gay, than the blithe bird, when summer comes, 
 Can keep its happy heart from pouring out 
 Its happiness in music. Let her rest : 
 She'll be herself again. 
 
 Lady D. [A?mouncing.] Lord Lennox, madam, 
 Claims entrance. 
 
 Queen. Let us see how he has thriven 
 Beneath the teaching of his horse and hound. 
 Admit him. 
 
 Enter Lennox, r., and hieels to the Queen. 
 
 Pray you, rise ; you look amazed. 
 
 Has Arthur's seat walked forth to Berwick Lawl 
 
 Or the old Castle fallen into the Loch ? 
 
 Or have you seen a ghost "? What ails the man '? 
 
 hen. Stranger, far stranger ! Nothing will surprise me ; 
 No, if the Castle, and the Berwick Law, 
 And Arthur's seat, should dance a threesome reel. 
 With huge Ben Lomond for the piper — nothing 
 Shall make me start again. 
 
 Queen. What is it, sir '? 
 Has crook-backed Gloster set the town on fire 1 
 
 Len. No, madam. Give me leave to draw my breath. 
 
 Queen. Oh, willingly ! Suppose you come again, 
 Say in a week or two, to tell the news. 
 
 Len. A week or two ! Within an hour or two 
 'Twill be no news to all the winds of heaven ! 
 T tell you, Angus — stout old Archibald — 
 Is challenged a Voutranre. 
 
 Queen. Is challenged, say you ? 
 And not the challenger ] That is amazing ! 
 What fiery spirit took the pace of him., 
 And gave the challenge first 1 
 
 Len. Oh, guess, I pray you. 
 
 Queen. How can we guess, I pray you % Not an hour 
 Without a brawl, — few hours without a fight, 
 
16 FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 [Act I 
 
 Among our polished lords. 
 
 Len. You'll never guess : 
 The lists will be arranged this afternoon ; 
 'Twill be a charming sight; for Archibald 
 Is a stout arm, though grizzled in the locks. 
 As for the other — in a thousand guesses 
 You shall not hit him. — Guess him, Lady Drummond. 
 
 Lady D. If 'twere not that my lord had strained his 
 wrist 
 By striking a pert priest on the thick skull 
 Without a gauntlet, I should guess 'twas he. 
 
 Queen. Is't a V outrance ? Will James give license, 
 think ye, 
 Or Cochrane ] They discountenance such things. 
 
 Len, Ah, there you've named the very challenger ! 
 
 Queen. Who, sir 1 — the King 1 
 
 Len. No, madam : not the King, 
 But the stone-chipping churl, the chisel-hitter. 
 The quarry-emptier, the wall-building knave ; 
 Oh, I could call him fifty names beside ! 
 
 Marg. [Adva?icmg.] Call him a brave accomplished 
 gentleman, 
 If you mean Walter Cochrane. 
 
 Le}t. Lady Margaret ! 
 You make me — no, you do not make me laugh ; 
 You mean not what you say. 
 
 Marg. I do ! 
 
 Len. Well, then, 
 I'm puzzled more and more. A month ago 
 You poured an ocean of such cutting words 
 On his devoted head, — why, my poor tongue 
 Grows weary wdth one half the crushing load 
 Of taunt, and quip, and sneer ! And now you say, 
 He is accomplished, and a gentleman ! 
 Gramercy on such gentleness ! 
 
 Queen. The king 
 Knows not of this. He will forbid the lists. 
 
 Len. Why, Cochrane knew, perhaps, his gi-ace's mind. 
 And challenged in the faith that the good king 
 Would bar the duel. I'll be off to Angus. 
 
 Queen. Go not. This thing needs other aid than yours. 
 I'll to the king, I'll stop it, if T can.— 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 FEUDAL TIMES. 17 
 
 Come, Margaret, you can pour your winning words 
 In James's ear. — Lord Lennox, fare ye well ! — 
 Come, Margaret. 
 
 Marg. I attend you. I will speak 
 To oui good king. Oh, would I were a man ! [Exeu7it, r. 
 
 Scene III. — -A room in Holyrood, unth pictures, drawings, 
 statues, <^c. James, Cochrane, and others discovered, 
 A Musician has just finished a song to the harp. 
 
 James. Thanks for the song. I love the roundelays 
 That speak of sunny spots or shady dells. 
 Where war and rufflers are unheard of ever. 
 Oh, what a blessed hour for this poor land. 
 If music should be native to its glens. 
 And rise from hall and cottage, vale and hill. 
 Like a pleased nation's prayer of thankfulness 
 For peace and joy ! 
 
 Coch. But music has a voice 
 Stirring and warlike. 
 
 James. Oh, I hate that voice ; 
 I hate the brazen trumpet's angry note ! 
 No, no, the soft delicious harmony 
 Of linked voices in a plaintive strain, 
 A tale of love or sorrow, has more power 
 To bless my soul than any sound of earth : 
 So speak not of its stirring, warlike voice ; 
 But let me listen all the summer eve 
 To dying falls and tearful melodies, 
 Like those we've heard. — Fair Preston, let me see 
 Your sketch of that old Grecian Demigod. 
 
 ^Loolxs at a paper ^ 
 Ah, well, — 'tis like a god, — a brow of power. 
 Yet lips all softened into human sweetness. 
 He might be young Achilles, ere his heart 
 Battened on blood, while yet he paced the shore, 
 Watching his mother's coming from the waves. — 
 You told me. Mar, you knew in Italy 
 A youth as fair. 
 
 Coch. Oh, fairer, lordlier ! 
 
 James. And young and gallant % 
 
 Coch. Brave and beautiful \ 
 No feigned Apollo, girt with clanging bow. 
 
18 FEUDAL TIMES. [Act I 
 
 E'er stepped so proudly on the shining ridge 
 
 Of topmost Ida, in the golden light 
 
 Of his immortal beauty. He was one 
 
 To worship without sin ; for never saint 
 
 Bore such pure heart, or spirit more kin to heaven. 
 
 James > Is he, then, dead 1 
 
 CocJi. Dead — dead, within these arms ! 
 
 James. How was it % Oh, I would he were alive ! 
 I'd bid him come and join a northern king, 
 Who would make up for cold and rugged clime 
 By a fond welcome and true tenderness. 
 Tell us, dear Mar. 
 
 Coch. Young Julian was the son 
 Of the w^se Pietro, the prince of Florence, 
 And brother of Lorenzo, fitly called 
 Magnificent. 'Tis now four years in June 
 Since the Cathedral floor was dimmed in blood, 
 And the hard heel of armed conspirators 
 Crushed its broad marbles. Julian and the prince 
 Were at the altar : incense, music, prayer. 
 All rose to heaven, when suddenly the doors 
 Flew open, and the cruel Pazzis — foes 
 Of the De Medicis, and hot in rage — 
 Rushed through the aisles : ere Julian could lift up 
 The entranced beauty of his bended head, 
 A dagger in the hand of Francis Pazzi 
 Had pierced his side, and his pure soul had risen 
 On the same breath that carried up his prayer. 
 
 James. How % Was such onslaught done in Italy % 
 Alas, 'tis like a story of our own. 
 
 Cock. I caught him falling, and with lucky aim 
 Stretched his destroyer on the slippery floor. 
 We fought, — we drove them from the holy place ; 
 We knew not we had lost young Julian ; 
 But when we turned we saw the bended form 
 Of him, the loved, the honoured, with an air 
 Of holiness spread o'er his meek-bowed head, 
 Like the calm glory round a martyr's brow. 
 
 Enter Gairles and two Lords, r. 
 
 Gair. Your grace ! 
 
 James. What blustering Hannibal is this ? 
 
lOiiNElil.] FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 19 
 
 Oh, Gairlies — we are busy. [Looks at a drawing. 
 
 "What a smile 
 
 On the sweet Virgin's lips ! A mother's smile, 
 Mingled with lowly worship— 
 
 Gair, Please your grace, 
 Lord Angus — 
 
 James. What of him % Pray you be quick— 
 
 Gair. Requires your grace's license to accept 
 The challenge — 
 
 James. To be sure ; we would not mar 
 His lordship's sports. 
 
 Gair. An't please you, if you heard 
 The challenger's name — 
 
 James. I have no wish to hear it ; 
 The man that challenged Angus — that's enough, 
 I care not, when two dogs are close embraced, 
 With jagged teeth sunk in each other's throats, 
 Whether the black is Mungo, or the other 
 Be Luath, or whatever name you please. 
 Tell Angus he is free to fight or not. — 
 Kind Ramsay, touch that fairy lute again. — - 
 \To Gair.] You have your answer. 
 
 Gair. If I were to name 
 One here beside us — Master Cochrane — 
 
 James. Earl — 
 He is an Earl ! — Come, strike the string, I pray yoti. 
 
 Gair. I think you'd haply interpose a word 
 Between Lord Angus and his feud. 
 
 James. Not I : 
 I tell you I regard not who the man 
 That challenged Angus is. — Go on, sweet friend ! — - 
 How harsh these words of feuds and challenges ! — • 
 Sing me the song of the lone shepherd girl 
 That died upon the hill, because her lover 
 Was false and fickle. 
 
 Gair. Then I crave your grace 
 Give orders for the lists, and name some peei 
 To sit in judgment : 'tis for life and death. 
 
 James. A death-feud — ha ! well, well, 'tis only Angus. 
 I meddle not with lists. — My Lord of Mar, 
 See justice done between these fierca-souled men ; 
 Be umpire. 
 
so FEUDAL TIMES. [Act II. 
 
 Coch On my knee, my sovereign liege, 
 I claim exemption from the task. 
 
 James. That's well. 
 We thought you had not taste for such a scene. 
 
 Gair. [ With a sneer.] No, faith, my liege — 
 
 Cock. Your pardon, good my lord ; 
 All shall be ready; I will move his grace 
 To name some other umpire. Tell Lord Angus 
 I will not fail him. [Exeunt Gair. and Lords, r, 
 
 I would spare his heart [Looks toivards the King, 
 
 His loving heart, the pang that this will give. 
 
 James. What stays you, Walter ] 
 
 Coch. 'Tis a fancied view 
 Of a rich Eastern sunset; o'er the plain 
 Light falls like a thick veil of golden motes. 
 And flings a glow, like a whole shower of roses, 
 Over the side of the vast pyramid. 
 No sight beside, no motion, and no sound ; 
 Silence, the desert, and the solemn height 
 Of the square mound ! Heaven's eye, the failing sun, 
 Will soon be closed, and Darkness shall keep watch 
 Over its slumbering sister. Solitude ! 
 
 END OP ACT I. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene I. — The King^s Closet. — King seated, r. 
 
 James. I ne'er was fitted for a throne like this, 
 Nor struggles, nor ambition. No friend left 
 But Walter — only Walter ! Albany, 
 My brother — he that was my playmate once — 
 Banded against me : bent, with England's aid, 
 To rob me of my life, my crown, my all ! 
 Why is not Walter here ] I feel my heart 
 Sink in his absence. Hark ! he comes. 
 
 Enter Queen and Margaret, l. 
 
 Queen. [Forcing her icay.] Give place ! 
 Back, churl ! I will have way ; lives are at stake — 
 'Tis not too late to save them. 
 
ScKNEl.] FEUDAL TIMES, 21 
 
 James. Gentle wife ! 
 And you, sweet Margaret— 
 
 Queen. We've no time for words ; 
 Send and forbid the lists. 
 
 James. I'm somewhat sad — 
 I've had bad news. Let me gain happiness 
 By having friends beside me, — gentle friends ; 
 Yourself and our fair cousin — might I add, 
 Counsellor? — Cousin and counsellor! Wisdom lies 
 In that brave look, oh, deeper, calmer, opener, 
 Than in the purblind eyes of chancellors, 
 As heaven shines clearer on a river's breast 
 Than in a reedy fen. Come, counsel me. 
 
 Queen. Nay, she shall give you counsel afterwards ; 
 Meantime send heralds to forbid this duel. 
 
 James. I may not, sweet ; 1 gave my word to Gairlies 
 That Cochrane should appoint a dernier judge, 
 And I suppose he's done't. — Now, pretty Margaret — 
 But you're sedate to-day ! Not even a smile 
 To be the seraph v/atch at the closed door 
 Where speech lies buried ? 
 
 Queen. Oh, bethink you, James ! 
 You are a man — a King ! A deed this aay 
 Is done, might shame the savage in the wild ; 
 There will be murder — 'tis to the death they fight. 
 
 James. Oh, Angus has a son, or nephew; fear not; 
 There will be some one left to bear his name 
 If he should fall, and ride upon his horse, 
 And trample on his foes. The other man — 
 
 Queen. Have you no care for him % 
 
 James. He's a stout arm, 
 A capital seat on a horse, and a quick eye ; 
 I tell you that at hazard. One thing more : 
 I speak at random — I will bet my crown 
 The sun will rise to-morrow in good time 
 If both are in their graves. — Sweet Margaret, 
 You hear how careful our good queen has grown 
 Of our stout liege's limbs. I wotted not 
 Old Angus had such favour in fair eyes. 
 
 Queen. 'Tis not for Angus. Oh, leave off this humoui ; 
 Send and forbid this meeting ! 
 
 James. Do you hear her % 
 
22 FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 What says my counsellor, my gentle cousin ? 
 
 Marg. I say, forbid it not. 
 
 Queen. Girl, girl, you're mad ! 
 Your hatred and dislike of Cochrane blind you. 
 
 James. Do you dislike him 1 Is there in human shape 
 One that can hate him 1 but you know him not. 
 
 Queen. She rails on him for ever. Can your hate 
 Find nothing but his blood to quench its firel 
 
 James. Whose blood] I pray you tell me who it is 
 That you so hate ; tell me, ray pretty friend; 
 And if an ounce or two will put it out, 
 Why we will send the barber to him straight, 
 And prick him into favour with a lancet. 
 
 Marg: Your grace has asked my counsel ; this it is : 
 Lay not a bar between them and their feud. 
 For one, his prayer — if he e'er thinks of prayer — 
 Is for a bloody shroud : if he should fall, 
 He dies an honoured death. The other bears 
 A creslless helm ; 'twere well he seized his crest 
 From one who wears the proudest : if he lives, 
 The envious tongue is silenced ; if he dies, 
 *Tis but a- life the less — a life unprized. 
 Since thrown among rough natures like these men's — 
 Among them, but not of them« 
 
 James. Who is this 1 
 Who is the man you mean ? You startle me. 
 
 Marg. You made him Earl of Mar — 'tis Walter Coch- 
 rane. 
 
 James. To fight— to fight with Angus ! Cochrane fi^ht )^ 
 And risk his life — 'tis not his own, 'tis mine — 
 Against mere bone and sinews, like the brutes ! 
 Stop it ! ho, Warder \ Warder ! If he dies, 
 I'll raze the name of Angus from the earth ! — - 
 Warder ! 
 
 Marg. Call not the Warder. 
 
 James. But I will — 
 To play me false like this ! Angus is known 
 For the best lance in Scotland ; he will die — 
 Warder ! — they'll bring him in a stiffened corse ; 
 If I had knov/n— when was the course to be ] 
 
 Queen. I heard the trumpet as I crossed the couit, 
 
 James. 'Tis in the park ; I think I might arrive 
 Before they run. 
 
Scene I.] FEUDAL TIMES. 23 
 
 Marg. Go not, my gracious liege. 
 
 James. Why not'? they dare not fight, if I command. 
 
 Queen. You should have spoken when I asked you. 
 
 James. Woman ! 
 You know not what you've done by keeping back 
 The name of Cochrane : if I had thought 'twas he — 
 I'll stop them yet. 
 
 Marg. Nay, thus I bar your way. 
 Think what dishonour you would fling for ever 
 On him you wish to serve ! If he recoils, 
 Better he ne'er had knowm a noble thought, 
 Or heard of gallant deeds, or raised his head 
 'Mong knightly men — though rugged, they've no fear — 
 Than that a whisper should connect his name 
 With the vile word that shames a woman's lip — 
 A coward ! 
 
 James. But they know he is as brave 
 As Milan steel. If you feel tenderly 
 For Walter — 
 
 Marg. [Coldly.'] Sir, 'tis for his sake I spoke. 
 For his and yours — to me he is a thing 
 Valueless, worthless. 
 
 Jarnes. Let me forth, I say. YTrumpet sounds. 
 
 Ha, what was that % It was a trumpet-call. . 
 Too late, too late ! Stop, from that window-ledge 
 Above the dais we see the lists, up, up ! 
 I cannot bear the sight. What see you now % 
 
 Marg. [On the ledge.] A crowd, but nothing clear; the 
 level sun 
 Is flashed in thousand rays from casque and sword. 
 
 James. The horsemen ! See you not the horsemen » 
 girl? 
 
 Marg. A tall grey horse, with mane in wavy folds, 
 Is pawing the hot ground, while, calm and fixed 
 A knight, with loosened rein, gives action free 
 To the proud tossing of his head. 
 
 James. 'Tis he ! 
 That's Walter's barb ! 
 
 Marg. The other rides a horse 
 Coal black, except a white star 'tween the eyes, 
 And seems to try his stirrups and the girths, 
 Balancing to and fro. [ Trumpet again. 
 
24 FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 •James.; Another sound ! 
 
 Marg. A banner rises at the upper side 
 Beside the great, black horse. 
 
 James. I know it well — 
 The Bloody Heart ! 
 
 Marg. A pennon now is raised. '^ 
 O'er the grey charger — blank, save in its folds 
 A single star in gold. [ Trumpet sounds. 
 
 James. Again the trumpet ! 
 
 Ma?g. Ha, they are gone ! on, on they flash like light ; 
 A shock ! 
 
 James. What then 1 Quick, quick! 
 
 Marg. A saddle's void; 
 The horse flies loose — 
 
 James. Which horse ] 
 
 Marg. It is the black ! 
 
 James. Thank Heaven for that! 'tis Angus is o'erthrown. 
 
 Marg. Both steeds are loose. 
 
 James. What say you 1 
 
 Marg. Sword to sword 
 They fight — 'tis nobly struck ! Oh, would to God 
 I were a knight ! Again — he's down ! he's dov/n ! 
 
 James. Who's down 1 
 
 Marg. Lord Angus ; o'er him like a king 
 Stands Mar. 
 
 James. He's safe ! he's safe ! Cochrane is safe ! 
 
 Marg. He stoops and raises Angus ; he takes off 
 His helm ; he li£s him. Now, by Heaven above, 
 A nobler man than that breathes not on earth ! 
 He leads him to the tent. 
 
 James. Hear you the shouting % 
 They cannot hide their joy that he is safe. 
 See you naught else % • 
 
 Marg. The crowd begins to part, 
 
 James. Come, then, we'll meet him. But I'll chide him, 
 too : 
 He must be mad to risk so rich a life 
 Against a man like that. Think you not so % 
 
 Marg. I know not, sir; 'tvv^as noble, 'twas — my head 
 Feels giddy. Have T spoken against that man % 
 Hold me excused from going with your grace. 
 
 James. Haste, haste ; I long to press him to my heart ! 
 
 \ Exeunt, l.. 
 
Scene II.j FEUDAL TIMES. * 25 
 
 Scene II. — Fart of the Park. 
 
 Enter Angus, r,, supported by Gairlies and others, Lennox 
 and Lords. 
 
 Len, A very pretty sight, upon my word !, 
 I'd sooner have a tap upon the skull 
 From the Tron steeple, than the thud that fell 
 On Angus' helm. 1 thought Ms doom was sped— 
 He was but stunned. 
 
 Ang, Curses upon the casque, 
 I am not dead ! 
 
 Gair. How feel you, noble Angus I 
 
 Ang, Why did that peasant slave not take my life I 
 How was it, Gairlies 1 Had the chance been mine, 
 He had not breathed again. I would have pla^shed 
 My foot in his hot blood — I'll do it yet 
 How was it I Can't you speak 1 Am I so fallen, 
 So sunk, so shamed \ the arm that until now 
 Was— but no more. How was it 1 Teli me all 
 
 Gair. You were unhorsed, and Cochrane leapt to the 
 ground ; 
 And then you drew your blade, and then he swung 
 His sword ; and if your helm v/ere not of steel 
 Of finest proof, you had had your requiem sung. 
 
 Ang. And then 1 and then 1 what did the caitiff then f 
 
 Gair. He raised you in his arms, and bared your face. 
 And tended you like a sick child, 
 
 Ang. And this man, 
 This Cochrane, having me at mercy, spared me ! 
 Cochrane spared Douglas ! Would to God the helm 
 Had been of tin or paper, and I had died ! 
 *T had been no shame to die ; but now, to live. 
 To live on Cochrane's grace, to owe iny breath 
 My pitifal breath, to mortal man that lives ! 
 
 Gair. Be calm, brave Angus. 
 
 Ang, Calm] 1 would 1 were 
 Calm in my shroud \ 
 
 Gair. Welcome, my good Lord Bishop 
 
 Enter Bishop, \., 
 Bink. How fares his lordship I 
 
26 FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 [Acrli 
 
 Gair. [Aside to Bishop.] Comfort liim, my lord. 
 If Angus loses heart, the cause is lost ; 
 And Cochrane will let bloody Justice loose 
 To tear us limb from limb. 
 
 Bish. [To A?fgus.] Take comfort, lord ; 
 You have long years before you, 
 
 A?7g To what use 1 
 My life is not my own. 
 
 Bish. Then you are bought 
 By politic forbearance ! 'Tis a bribe— 
 The life he gave — to tie your hand forever; 
 To link you to his wheel, to make you wear 
 The Cochrane badge, to follow in his train, 
 Ti be his menial. 
 
 Ang. Curse upon the bribe ! 
 I tell you, I would rather be a corse ; 
 I cannot live to be the thing you say. 
 
 Bish. You need not ; see you not, he dared not use 
 Tiie chance that fortune gave him 1 that his art 
 Was shewn in sparing] 'Twos an insult, lord. 
 To bid a Douglas live and be his thrall. 
 
 Ang. His thrall ] Great God, is Angus sunk so low ? 
 
 Bish. Nay, if you are his J'riend, what will be said] 
 That Cochrane spared you — that you're grateful to him, 
 That you must love him, aid him, tend on him, 
 Because he pitied you ! 
 
 Ang. He pitied me ! / 
 I will not be his friend — I'll cast his pity 
 Back in his teeth.~ What right had he to spare 1 
 
 Bish. There may be time and place to pay him back 
 The grace he did you. 
 
 Ang. Would they both were come ! 
 
 Bish. The princely Albany, with English aid, 
 Bursts into Galloway on Monday next. 
 James has sent out his standard, and will name 
 This Cochrane to command. 
 
 Ajzg. He will not dare ! 
 No man shall give an order, on his peril. 
 Between the Esk and Nith, unless his name 
 Be Douglas. 
 
 Bis7?. But the thing is fixed, I tell you, 
 And Cochrane will be leader. We must strike, 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 FEUDAL TIMES. 27 
 
 Or yield at once. 
 
 Ang. I never could speak the word — 
 That "yield." 
 
 Bish. If once he face the enemy, 
 And wins a stricken field, farewell, my lords, 
 To power and state for you ; an iron hand 
 Will hold the sceptre, and your day is done ; 
 You will be meek, submissive chamberlains, 
 Mild grooms of the stole, and pithless silver sticks ; 
 Gilt pageants of a court, — but the true power 
 Will be with James. The people love this man. 
 
 1st Lord. But he shall never win a stricken field. 
 
 Len. He cannot fight the Eng^lish by himself; 
 Now, if we were to run ] — I'd do it myself 
 Willingly — if we all should run and leave him ? — 
 Eh!— i but hint it. 
 
 2d Lord. Better let him try 
 The sharpness of a dagger. 
 
 Gray. Gentle lords, 
 I heard my nurse tell an old history. 
 How that the mice took counsel, and resolved 
 To hang a bell about Grimalkin's neck. 
 To warn them of her coming ; till one mouse, 
 A very sensible animal, I think, 
 Puzzled them all, by asking which of them 
 Would risk itself within the monster's claws 
 To tie the string. 
 
 Len. My lords, I'm not a mouse ; 
 But if I were, and Cochrane were a tabby, 
 I would not face his claw for all the world ! 
 
 Ang. Leave it to me, my lords, I'll bell the cat. 
 
 [Slwuting outside. 
 
 Gair. Ha ! shouts for Cochrane's triumph ! Come, my 
 lord, ^ ^ 
 
 He must not see you thus. 
 
 Ang. But he shall see me — 
 I have to thank him for his courtesy ; 
 I would it were in fitter guise than words. [Exeunt, ii. 
 
 Scene III. — Before Llolyrood. 
 
 Shouting continued. — Enter Cochrane, l., his hanner car- 
 ried, before him, his helmet on a cushion, and two Esquires, 
 
28 FEUDAL TIMES. [Act II. 
 
 with sword, shield, b^c, folloived by tlte people, Enter, 
 in a separate group, Angus, Gairlies, and. otJiers. 
 
 Cock, \ To the cro?vd.\ Kind friends, I tliank you for 
 your company, 
 1 pray you, leave me to return alone. 
 
 Gair. There goes the rascal commons at his heels. 
 
 Ang. [To Cochrane, who is ■pO'Ssing out. \ Sir, sir! 
 
 \Coclirane retar?is. 
 I have to thank you for my life ; 
 An 'twere more prized, my thanks were heartier. 
 
 Coch, The king can ill afford so proud a name, 
 Or brave a sword, as calls Lord Angus wearer. 
 We are our king's and country's — not our own. 
 
 Ang. But having given thanks for what I prize not — • 
 Seeing it loses what small worth it had, 
 E'en in the thanking — 1 would have you count 
 On nothing more : we are not friends. 
 
 Coch. And yet 
 We may be friends of something dear to both. 
 
 Gair. [To Angus\ What thing is that that Master .Coch- 
 rane means ] 
 
 Ang. Call him Lord Mar; he's worthy of the belt. 
 That held a Douglas under his sword-point. — 
 My lord, I know your meaning ; we may both 
 Serve Scotland, though sworn foe men to each other. 
 
 Coch. Do that, and hate me as you can. 
 
 Ang. I've said 
 My say ; I tell you, we are foes to the death. 
 
 Cork. There breathe few other men would say that word 
 And live ; but a stout hand and open tongue 
 Come girt with rugged safety to my heart. 
 I trust the sacred office of my lord [Alluding to Bishop. 
 Will teach you kinder thoughts — and so, farewell ! 
 
 [Going. 
 Enter James, r. 
 
 James. Walter ! and safe ! Oh, how you wronged me, 
 Walter ! 
 
 Coch. [Kneels.] My liege. 
 
 James. Up from your knee, t'my heart, t'my heart ! 
 And not a wound 1 How dare you, Lord of Mar, 
 Transgress our orders ? — but you are not touched ? — 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 FEUDAL TIMES. 29 
 
 We shall take measure for your punishment. 
 Oh, Walter ! had you fall'n, what could I do 
 With the cold scowling of our lords ! 
 
 CocJi. Your grace 
 Will pardon my ambition to cross swords 
 With such a knight as Angus. 
 
 James. Such a knight ! 
 Why, I could knight a thousand such a-day, 
 And make them dukes and earls ; but you, dear friend, 
 So wisej so deep, so elevate of soul — 
 How dared ytju fight without our royal will % 
 We'll put you in close ward. — And you, rash man, 
 How dared you lift your sacrilegious hand 
 On a high nature like Lord Mar's — our friend ] 
 
 Ang. My liege, 1 saw a glove, and took it up. 
 
 CocJi. True : on my knee I plead for Angus' pardon j 
 I was in fault, hot, heedless, and jDrovoked : — 
 I was the challenger. 
 
 James. \To Apg?is.] If you had touched 
 One hair, I would have borrowed a lion's heart, 
 And torn you where you stand ! — But it is past. 
 Match you with rufflers like yourself; I'll find 
 Some way shall tame you. — Come, my Lord of Mar. 
 
 Coch. Not till you've pardoned Angus. 
 
 James. Pardoned him ! 
 The man that tried to rob me of my guide, 
 My aid, my stay ! 
 
 CocJi. You pardon both or none. 
 
 James. Well, from our heart we pardon you, Lord An- 
 gus, .. 
 And trust to have your aid in our good cause 
 Ere long. 
 
 Gair. Sit down. Lord Angus, you are faint. 
 
 Ang. No ! if the standing racked me with hot pains 
 Forever, as they do now, I would not show 
 By look or sign that Douglas owned a pang. 
 Farewell, Sir King ; farewell, my Lord of Mar. 
 I own you for a knight expert in arms ; 
 But an' my horse had equalled your grey steed, 
 The issue might have changed. 
 
 Coch. You'like the horse ? 
 
 Ang. No knicrht e'er crossed a nobler. 
 
 
30 FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 [Act II 
 
 Cocli. My brave horse, 
 My gallant grey ! I rode him in the field 
 At Reggio, with the Southern chivalry, 
 When we o'erthrew the turbaned Saracen : — 
 A soul of fire, a heart of gentleness, 
 A courage like a king's — My stately barb ! — 
 
 \To an attendant. 
 Carry Grey Julian to Lord Angus' stable. — 
 My lord, he'll bear you with a step more proud, 
 Since he supports a Douglas and brave man. 
 Farewell. [Exeunt James and Cochrane, r. 
 
 Ang. I cannot take his horse. 
 
 Gair. Why not % 
 'Tis worth a thousand crowns. 
 
 Bish. Another bribe 
 To win you to his service. 
 
 Gair. Take the horse; 
 He knows he has no right to such a steed. 
 
 Ang, I cannot tell— there's something strange in this ; 
 There never was a king with such an air. 
 Or opener hand. I'll think upon it. Come. [Exeunt,!.. 
 
 % END OF ACT II. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 Scene I. — A Room in Holyrood. 
 
 James, Cochkane, and Lord Drummond, r. — James gloo- 
 my and depressed. 
 
 Cocli. AVhat said the learned bishop 1 Droop not so. 
 
 James. He warned me of false friends; he said the stars 
 Prophesied evil. 
 
 Cocli. Has the earth no poison, 
 That he must wrong the heavens 1 The stars on high 
 Fulfil their courses, — clear, unfailing, calm — 
 Reckless of what w^e do on this poor globe ; 
 And if they give a lesson, 'tis but this — 
 To walk in high serene tranquillity 
 On our appointed paths, as they on theirs. 
 
 x\ 
 
Scene I.j 
 
 FEUDAL TIMES. 31 
 
 James. False friends, he said. I have no friend but. yoM] 
 . I told him so ; and then he shook his head 
 A.nd prayed. Ah, Walter, if the stars speak truth ] 
 
 Coch. I've given orders to receive the stars, 
 And hostile planets, and opposed conjunctions, 
 In fitting guise ; Caerlaverock is well stored ; 
 The Borders guarded ; a stout company 
 On Lauder Bridge. If you advance your banner, 
 I think the heavens will smile before a week, 
 And the lord bishop read their lessons better. 
 
 James. But will our liegemen follow '?- 
 
 Cocli. Try them, sir! 
 Lead them ! 'Tis a poor heart that will not follow. 
 When 'tis well led. 
 
 James. What, I ? Is there no way 
 To close this feud ] What is it Albany wants % 
 They tell me he but asks our love again ; 
 Oh, if he ask but that — 
 
 Cocli, Who tell you this 1 
 You have not heard of Albany's truth from Angus ? 
 
 James. No. 
 
 Cocli. He's too brave for falsehood, 
 
 James. But he'll bear 
 Hatred for what has happ'd. 
 
 Cock. A heart like his, 
 If 'tis the heart I think it, has no room 
 For thought so base : no, sir ; our strife shall be 
 Which shall be foremost in our country's service; 
 We shall be foes no longer. - 
 
 James. You are like 
 The sun, dear Walter, all compact of light. 
 And bright'ning what it looks on, till it shines 
 As with a separate fire. I like not Angus. 
 
 Coch. He's rough in speech, but true in heart and han^i 
 The lords await your grace. 
 
 James. Come with me. 
 
 Coch. Nay; 
 I'll follow in brief space. Shew them their King — - 
 Bear you a royal front ; tell them your sword 
 Shall shine the foremost, and your steed tread first 
 Upon an English corse. 
 
 James. Bring the full guard — 
 
32 FEUDAL TIMES. [Act IF 
 
 I like it not ; where are their lordships now 1 
 
 Coch. There — in the park. Fear not for Angas' faith j - 
 I'll answer for his zeal. 
 
 James, Would it were past ! 
 They're in the park, you say, \Exitf r. 
 
 Drum. I think his grace 
 Looks downcast, though so near a stirring day. 
 
 Coch. You have forgot, my lord, that a king's heart 
 Ts not as ours. He has a father's grief, 
 Who sees his son in danger of his life : 
 His sobjects are his children. Pray you, follow, 
 And give him comfort. [Exit Lord Drummond, r.] All are 
 
 ranged in wrath, 
 And pour their hate on me. Oh, why for this 
 Left I the sunny land, the golden souths 
 The birth-place of high thoughts and noble men ! 
 But James, the loving king, the trustful heart, 
 I will not leave his side,, though at his side 
 I know the gi^ave lies open. All against me!! 
 Lennox, the Queen, and the pure, noble heart 
 Of Margaret Randolph ! If she knew my thought. 
 How for no pride, nor avarice, nor ambition, 
 1 toiled and struggled ! — when the strife is o'er. 
 She'll know how she has wronged me. Ts't, then, so ? 
 Beats there no heart in all this troubled land 
 In unison Vv^ith mine % Angus, brave Angus 1 
 One effort more to win so stout an arm! 
 I'll see him: he is harsh, and cold^ and proud ; 
 But bears too high a name to stoop so low 
 As play the traitor to his trusting king. [Exit, l. 
 
 Scene II. — A Room in the Talace. 
 Margaret and Lady Drurimond discovered, r. 
 
 Marg. Dear Drummond, are you sure the Queen is 
 changed^ 
 And hates this man 1 Why does she hate him 1 
 
 LcuhjD. Why] 
 I marvel you should ask ; a man like him ! 
 His fathere have been vassals of the Comyns, 
 Or tenants of the abbey-lands of Perth, 
 Or something else, I can't remember what. 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 FEUDAL TIMES. 33 
 
 Marg. And therefore the Queen hates him ? 
 
 Lady D. To be sure. 
 
 Ma?g. Oh ! 
 
 Lady D. Don't you hate the man yourself] 
 
 Marg. Who 1 1 1 
 Of course, of course ; but what has changed the Queen ? 
 vShe did not hate him ] nay, she chided me 
 Because I spoke so harshly of Lord Mar : 
 T did speak harshly — harshly, very harshly. 
 
 Lady D. Oh, you were always such a meny girl ; 
 When you but heard his name — and the poor king — 
 His puppet ! his poor toy ! 'twas jDretty sport 
 To hear how you described them. 
 
 Marg. Was it so ? 
 
 Lady D. But you look serious now. Is it because 
 He took some vantage over poor old Angus 1 
 
 Marg. Vantage ! what vantage, save what his bold 
 heart 
 And his stout arm bestowed ? What moves the Queen 
 To hate that man ? 
 
 Lady D. She thinks he rules the King 
 Too much ; that it were better to bring back 
 The Duke of Albany, the good king's brother. 
 
 Marg. The man that fawns on England ] the base man, 
 The traitorous, cruel, lurking, false-tongued man. 
 That trusts to foreign swords to force his way 
 Over Scotch corses to the Scottish crown % 
 No ! I say no ! I tell you, I say no ! 
 
 Lady D. Margaret, what ails you 1 why, your eye's 
 on fire. 
 Your hand is shaking; what's the matter, girl ] 
 
 Marg, Where's Angus 1 he is brave — oh ! ask me not 
 Why my hand shakes ; if it wore mailed glove. 
 It would not shake. Where is the Earl of Angus'? 
 
 Lady D. I think he's in the park ; the other lords 
 Hold council. 
 
 Marg. Do they ? They hold council ! 
 Now in the name of heaven and all the saints, 
 What need of counsel now, when the foe stands 
 In very act to spring on our poor land ] 
 Council ! pah ! there's no time for council now. 
 I'll see the Earl of Ansfus. 
 
34 FEUDAL TIMES. [Act III 
 
 hady D. Wait awhile > 
 I'll go with you : put on your hood and veil. 
 
 Marg. No! as I am ! — Counsel ! I scorn the word ! 
 Follow me, Drummond. If the queen takes part 
 With Albany, and frowns upon Lord Mar — 
 James is so easily led — I'll see Lord Angus. [Exeunt, r. 
 
 Scene IW.— The Park. 
 Ente?- Gairlies, Gray, Lennox, Bishop, a?id Lords, l. 
 
 Gair. This Cochrane has wrought marvels on the king 
 BisJi. I tell you, sirs, there's something more in this 
 
 Than comes of mortal guiding. He has help 
 
 From all the fiends. 
 
 Enter A.NGVS,frojn heliind, r. 
 
 Arig, Then he has goodly friends : 
 We'll try and get some devils of our own ; 
 He can't have got them all. 
 
 BisJi. You'll find it true. 
 
 Ang. [To the Lords.] What happened at your meeting? 
 
 Gair. Hang your sword 
 On an old nail. 
 
 Gray. Take off your spurs, brave Angus. 
 
 A7ig. Look you, my lords: I know not what you mean ; 
 But if it be because my spear broke short 
 On Cochrane's breastplate, I will shew your lordships. 
 Which ever of you chooses to essay it, 
 That I've another spear of sharper point: 
 Who answers me 1 
 
 BisJi. 'Tis not of that, brave Angus; 
 'Tis that this Cochrane, by the secret aid 
 Of the foul fiend — 
 
 Ang. Psha! Is it only that % 
 What said the king 1 
 
 Gair. That we must all advance 
 To guard the Border against Albany. 
 
 Ang. I will not move an inch. AVhat else, my lord '? 
 
 Gair. Cochrane has seized on eveijy Border strength ; 
 Caerlaverock — Annan Tower — the Hermitage — 
 
 Ang. Ha ! 
 
 Gair. And the fords of Esk, and Tweed, and Nith. 
 
Scene III.] FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 35 
 
 Ang. Now by my soul, he bears him like a man ! 
 Pity he will not live to boast of it ! 
 
 Gair. If you should fail, mi?- daggers will make sure, 
 
 A7?.g. I shall not fail. — [To liimself\ And yet he's- of 
 stout heart ; 
 I wish he did not lie in Douglas* way. 
 
 Gray, Our swords will aid. 
 
 Bisli. I put him in the ban 
 As a fiend's friend ; who slays him is a friend 
 To us and Rome. 
 
 Ang. Aid ! aid ! — I want no aid, 
 Nor ban, nor Rome ! Listen, my good lord bishop : 
 I know the sort of slaying pleases best 
 Our holy mother Church : a quiet stab 
 Where no one sees ; a sleeping draught too strong ; 
 An eyeless dungeon in some hidden tower : 
 I'll have no deed like this to please the Church. 
 This Cochrane is a Man_, and as a man, 
 And by a man, he shall be slain. This arm 
 Shall do the deed. It is no fameless thing, 
 A brave man's doom. That man's a foe to me 
 That takes this from me. Be he priest or earl, 
 The man that slays Lord Mar, till I am by, 
 Dies by this hand. 
 
 As Angus is going out, enter Cochrane, l., ivitli Attend- 
 ants and the Royal Banner. 
 
 Coch. The king departed ! — Angus ! 
 
 Gair. Here's Cochrane. 
 
 Cock. I would speak to you, my Lord. 
 
 Ang. Were you a spy, my lord ? for if you were, 
 And heard my'words — 
 
 CocJi. I heard you not. 
 
 Gair. [ To the Lords.] Hush ! hush ! 
 
 Aiig. I told your lordship when I saw you last, 
 We were not- friends : I am not to be bought 
 Even by the worthless life you left to me. 
 
 Coch. Bought, my good lord 1 oh, 'twere of priceless 
 worth. 
 The heart of a brave man in this our need. 
 L fain would buy you, but as noble hearts 
 Are l3ouf?ht — by noble trust. 
 
36 FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 [Act III 
 
 Ang. Trust me no trust ; 
 I know what place is mine, or should be mine. 
 
 Coch. Your place, Lord Angus'? Should your place be 
 here, 
 When every plain and strath in Douglasdale 
 Echoes with tramp of horse and sound of horn ? 
 
 Ang. Who sounds the horn % Who rides the horse 1 
 
 Coch. True Scots, 
 Who look with longing for the leadership, — 
 Of Angus. 
 
 Ang. But I hold no leadership; 
 There's one holds that, that spells a different name 
 From Douglas. 
 
 CocJt. No, not so. The Douglas' cry 
 Shall cleave the foeman's van, like a bold hawk 
 Piercing a summer cloud; that other name 
 Will sound but as a man's who loved his king, 
 And wished — proud wish ! — to die in the defence 
 Of the UD conquered soil that gave him birth. 
 You should not think so harshly of that name. 
 
 Ang. Sir, Douglas will take care of his own name ; 
 Do you the same of yours. 
 
 Coch. \To the Lords.] And you, my lords 1 
 
 Ang. They do as I do; not a man of them 
 Stirs southward. 
 
 Coch. Then, by heaven ! — but patience yet. 
 
 Enta- Margaret, l., she stands aj)art. 
 
 I pray you, noble Angus, pause awhile 
 Ere you reject the offer of a love 
 That v/ill be lasting; for it takes its strength 
 From duty, from regard ; here is my hand ; 
 You take the king's true love as well as mine. 
 
 Ang. [R.ejeciing the hand.] The king, sir, should have 
 thought of this before ; 
 He had his nobles ready, sword and spear, 
 And he chose others. 
 
 Coch. But you leave the land 
 Naked, defenceless — England's mock and scorn, 
 Albany's spoil. 
 
 Ang. Gramercy, sir, make haste 
 ]f you have more to say. Fve t Id the kin.s;-, 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 FEUDAL TIMES. 37 
 
 I've told yourself, we'll have no upstart here 
 
 To outface the oldest names. Do I speak plain ? 
 
 Coch. My lord, I will not say what I have heard, 
 Of acts and threatenings that 'twere shame to speak, 
 Linked with the honoured name of Angus. 
 
 Ang.^ Well! 
 Speak or no speak, it makes no boot to me : 
 I've told you my resolve. 
 
 Coch. Then you refuse 
 Your following to the Border ? 
 
 Ajig. Till I am asked 
 By some one better worthy of my answer. 
 
 Marg. \ Coming forivard.] Then answer me ! 
 
 Coch. The Lady Margaret ! 
 
 Ang. Rash girl ! pert minx ! go, mind your wheel. 
 
 Marg. When men 
 Kkow not their duty, it is time, my lord, 
 For women to do theirs. A danger threatens — 
 Douglas hangs back, and calls himself a Douglas! 
 Take you another name, Lord Angus. 
 
 Ang. To your seam ! 
 You speak like Master Cochrane. 
 
 Marg. For 1 feel 
 Like the Earl of Mar. 
 
 Ang. Remember, pray you, madam, 
 Who 'tis you are ; you bear no nameless name. 
 
 Marg. Nor wavering heart ! Angus ! for shame, Lord 
 Angus ! 
 To hear the clarion sounding for the battle, 
 And keep you from the van ! Have you forgotten 
 How good Sir James took Robert Bruce's heart, 
 In a rich silver casket locked and barred, 
 Among the heathen Saracens of Spain ; 
 And when the fight v/as thickest, flung the heart 
 Into the midst, and said to it, " Lead on 
 As thou wert wont, Douglas will follow thee!" 
 And so he did, and slew the infidels 
 Till he was slain ; he was your ancestor ; 
 For shame, for shame ! 
 
 Coch. yTo the Lords.] There spoke the Randolph 
 voice ! 
 There beat the Randolph heart ! hear you her v/ords, 
 
 D 
 
38 FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 [Act III 
 
 And falter in your duty 1 
 
 M-arg. Angus ! Angus ! 
 Oh, if I were a man, I would not speak — 
 No, I would act ; but bearing a weak hand, 
 I give my tongue its way; 1 wara you, Angus, 
 You cast the pedestal from 'neath your feet — 
 You and your lordly friends — on which you stand ! 
 You cast the golden chance away from you, 
 That makes your interest and your country's one. 
 It may not come again : close with Lord Mar — 
 March with the king. Would I might march with you! 
 Would I might see the banner of my house 
 Flap in the breeze above the helmed heads 
 Of steel-clad Randolphs ! 
 
 Ang. But you shall not, girl ; 
 Nor James, nor Cochrane; not a man of them. 
 Shall move without my order. 
 
 Marg. Stop me not ! 
 They sball ! they shall! Here, who will be my knight ? 
 Who'll lead my men 1 There shall not one remain 
 Lurking like laggard cowards ! Are ye all ,- 
 Struck dumb by the bold frowning of this man ? 
 Who'll take my scarf? 
 
 Ang. I think, not one of them ; 
 I think they know the pei'il they were m 
 Too well for that. 
 
 Coch. [Kneeling to Margaret.^ Oh, lady, at your feet 
 I kneel ; I'm all unworthy but to touch 
 The scarf that bears the colours of the Randolph ; 
 But I will wear it as some sacred thing, 
 Some banner that has gathered in its folds 
 The treasured blessino-s of all holy saints ! 
 
 Ma?g. And lead the men 1 Into the front of battle ] 
 Here, take the scarf — summon them to your power ! 
 
 ^4??^. Now, by my soul, this insult is the last ! 
 I tell you — off with base concealment nov/ 1 — 
 Death shall resolve this strife. The man, by heaven, 
 That spurns a Douglas, dies ! 
 
 Coc/k Take back defiance ! 
 Friendship I've offered twice, you've scorned it twice ; 
 Now look you to yourselves. The swnrd is drawn — 
 Beware its edge ! 
 
ScEKE III.] FEUDAL TIMES. 39 
 
 Ang. Mine has an edge as well. — 
 C:)me, girl, come with me ; you shall learn your place. 
 
 Marg. My place is here. 
 
 Coch. [To standai'd-bearer.] Advance the royal banner ! 
 [The hanner is held over Margaret's head. 
 Lady, you are in safeguard of the King ! 
 Who moves a step, who lifts an arm, by heaven 
 His doom is sped. Round her a ring is drawn 
 Of duty, trust, allegiance ; back, I say ! 
 Who oversteps it, dies ! 
 
 Ang. Come, 1 command you ; 
 Come ! 
 
 Marg. What, a traitor give command to me 1 
 Oh, I have that within should bear me up 
 Against a thousand renegades like you ; 
 Go ! 
 
 Ang. You shall answer for this thing. 
 
 [Exeunt Angtis and Lords^ r. 
 
 Len. O ho ! 
 I'll join this Cochrane. Angus has no chance. 
 I wish my fingers had had blisters on't 
 Before I signed. I'll speak to him. [Exit, u. 
 
 Marg. Lord Mar ! 
 I think you knew me not till now ; even now 
 I think you do not know me, what I am : 
 I'm not the bold-to,ngued thing 1 seemed to be 
 When Angus moved me ; I would have you think me 
 Different from that ; you do me wrong. Lord Mar ; 
 But I deserve your thoughts. 
 
 Coch. I've thought on you 
 As on some loftier nature ! gazed on you 
 As on the sculptured forms that fill with awe 
 The heart and brain — immortal deities, 
 Worshipped by those brave workers of old Time, 
 Who clothed the utterings of their inner heart 
 In shapes of outward beauty. Majesty 
 Shone on your brow, as on the marble front 
 Of heaven's imperial Juno ; Purity 
 Lived in your eyes, as in the stately look 
 Of loftiest Dian ; and — but pardon, lady, 
 I know not what I say ; it matters not 
 What thoughts are mine — I pray you, pardon me. 
 
40 FEUDAL TIMES. [Act iii. 
 
 Marg. Pardon you, Mar ? Pardon is not the word; 
 You saved me from Lord Angus — raised me up 
 To thoughts that were above me. Ah, Lord Mar, 
 The orphan pardons not — she thanks you. 
 
 Coch. Nay, 
 Pardon is what I ask — I ask no more ; 
 If I have been too bold — but foes are nigh. 
 
 [Gives Margaret to the Guards. 
 Answer the Randolph's safety with your lives. 
 My sword is near ; lead onward to the king. 
 
 [Exeunt half the Guards and Margaret^ l. 
 
 Re-enter Lennox, r. 
 
 Jjen. My gracious Earl of Mar, I hope your lordship 
 Will spare me one half second. 
 
 Coch. What d'ye want % 
 I'm busy. [Going. 
 
 Lien. My good lord, pray para on me, 
 'Tis on the king's affairs. 
 
 Coch. Say on, my lord. 
 
 Lten. My lord, draw this way ; farther yet, my lord. 
 I can do James a service — such a service 
 As never has been done by mortal man 
 To a king before. 
 
 Coch. Draw back, good Cunningham. 
 
 [Eixeunt Guards., l. 
 What is the service % 
 
 Lien. He might give his crown 
 To know the service ; and yourself, my lord — 
 It touches you no less. 
 
 Coch. Think not of that. 
 What service is it you can do the king % 
 
 Len. I must have promise ere I do it. Life 
 Hangs on it, and death ! the very hour I speak, 
 I risk ray safety ; if a word were known — 
 Nay, if they saw me here — come more this way — 
 
 Coch. Lord Lennox, you have come to me unasked ; 
 You tell me you can serve the king. 
 
 Len. I can ; 
 E'ut 1 must have sure guerdon for the deed. 
 
 Coch. What is it'? You say life is on the cast, 
 And yet you talk of guerdon ! What is it \ 
 
Scene in.] FEUDAL TIMES. 41 
 
 Land 1 titles 1 money 1 Name the sum, my lord ; 
 
 Is it by weight you sell your services, 
 
 Or length or breadth '? What is your price, I say ] 
 
 Len. Look not so fierce, talk not so loud, Lord Mar: 
 You know that illbany is on the Border 
 With a strong English force ? 
 
 Coc/i. Ay. 
 
 Le?i. Well, my lord, — 
 But will you answer that his grace consent 
 To grant my suit 1 
 
 Cock. Go on, go on. 
 
 Len. And you, 
 You'll aid me, too ] 
 
 Coch. Say on, and have no fear. 
 
 Len. Well, Albany has dealings with our chiefs — 
 With me — myself — I can't deny the fact — 
 With Gairlies, Seton, Gray — with all of us. 
 
 Coch. Not all, think better ; not with all — remember. 
 
 Le)i. Yes, all — except, of course. King James's friends, 
 Crawford and Drummond — but except these two, 
 All. 
 
 CocJi. No, not all. I think there beats one heart 
 Too proudly for such deed — though that same heart 
 Loves me not — there's no treachery finds place 
 In gallant Angus ! 
 
 Len. He withholds his power ; 
 He will not aid the array. 
 
 Coch. But traffics not 
 With bribes and dealings with false Albany. 
 
 Len. Oh, but he does. He'll forth this very night 
 To the Southern March to join the English force : 
 He's got the coin. 
 
 Coch. No, no ! 
 
 Len. Think of the risk, 
 And I am sure you'll never grudge the price 
 I ask for what I do. 
 
 Coch. 1 think of it. 
 You risk your life by treason to these men, 
 And ransom it from treason to the king. 
 For what you say of Angus — mark me, sir, 
 It cannot be ; the brave have higher thoughts. 
 
 I en. My lord, the banished Albany has sent 
 
42 FEUDAL TIMES. [Act III 
 
 His missives to us all. The lords are banded. 
 To give no aid to James ; the English king 
 Gives help to Albany, and claims the crown 
 As suzerain lord. The duke has given consent 
 To hold it in full homage : I've the d-eed 
 For signature ; already there are names — 
 
 Cocli. The renegades ! the traitors ! Give it me. 
 Where is the deed 1 
 
 Jjpn. But is the guerdon granted ? 
 
 Coch. Name it. But give the deed. 
 
 Ijtn. That his good grace 
 Would give me Angus' v/ard, the Lady Margaret ; 
 And you must recommend the suit, my lord, 
 Angus consents that I should v^ed the girl, 
 But claims one half her lands — the best half, too • 
 . Now, if a manor or two — 
 
 Cocli. \^Aside.\ Give patience, Heaven ! 
 And keep me from hot sin on this man's life ! 
 
 Len. Play not so fiercely with the dagger heft; 
 The king is guardian in chief; his grace 
 Must give the estates in full. 
 
 Codi. Where is the deed % 
 
 Lien. In ray glove sleeve. 
 
 Coch. Lord Lennox, look on me; 
 You'll see no jesting spirit in my eyes : 
 You go not hence alive till you've resigned 
 That deed. 
 
 Len. Alive ! you mean it not, my lord, 
 I w^ould not grudge — 
 
 Coch. If, ere you breathe thi-ee times. 
 You lay it not within my hand, you die. 
 By Heaven ! I'd think it sport and happiness 
 To spurn you into ashes with my heeL 
 Give me that deed. 
 
 JLeyi. There, take it. 
 
 Coch. Cunningham ! 
 
 Enter Cunningham and Guard, l. 
 
 Keep the Lord Lennox in close ward : one word, 
 One sign, one motion, cleave him to the chin. 
 Away ! 
 
 \Ije.nnox is led. off^ l. Tears open the deed and rcaap. 
 
Gray — Gairlies — Angus ! — C4otl Ijoforc I 
 
 Treason shall pay its penalty in death ! 
 
 The loftiest head the first ! Justice, bare-armed, 
 
 Shall steep the proudest of their crests in blood. [Exit, 
 
 Ex\D OP ACT III. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Scene I. — A Hall in Angus' House. 
 
 Angus, Gairlies, Gray, Sfc, discovered. A Table, Gob- 
 lets, $rc. 
 
 Ang. If he had fifty devils at his back, 
 He shall not daunt me thus ! The Randolph's knight ! 
 Before my very eyes to wear her badge, 
 And summon her array ! No, by St. Bride 1 
 He shall not trample on us so. Lie still, [To Ms sword. 
 T feel you panting iii the sheath. 
 
 Gair. My lord, 
 Reflect— it's madness to go on. 
 
 Ang. Oh, is it ] 
 We're all a little mad in Liddesdale. 
 
 Gair. H'm — maybe so ; 'twere wiser to repent. 
 
 Ang. Repent ! the Douglas does not know the wo^d, 
 Save to some shav'ling priest at shriving time ; 
 But if you faint in heart, and quake at the knees, 
 And tremble and look pale — 
 
 Gair. You know me, Angus, 
 Too well for that; I only wished we had found 
 Some other way to reach our aim. 
 
 Ang. No, by the rood ! 
 Short shrift, quick end. I hate your " other ways." 
 I see a deer, I stab it in the throat — 
 I see a wolf. I spear it ere it springs — 
 I see a man, I slay him where he stands : 
 I like no " other wa3^s" to reach my aim. 
 
 Gair. We're ready to obey you. What's your plan ] 
 
 Ang. My train now waits me at the nether port ; 
 And by good spurring, I may sound the horn 
 
44 FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 [Act IV 
 
 In Nithsdale yet, and rouse the Douglases 
 To meet this Cochrane ere he sees the Esk. 
 There are twelve hundred spears in Douglas' train ; 
 I trust Lord Mar will find their points more sharp 
 Than he found mine. And so, farewell, my lords. 
 
 [ Going. 
 Enter Herald, r. 
 
 J^erald. The king sends greeting to the Earl of Angus; 
 You are his prisoner. He will speak your doom 
 Ere fleets an hour. 
 
 Ang. My train — my train ! 
 
 Herald. The king 
 Has sent them forward, save some twenty spears, 
 To Lauder. 
 
 Ang. Was it James did this, my friend 1 
 
 Herald. I had my message from the Earl of Mar, 
 
 [Exit, R. 
 
 Ang. Fill me a stoup of wine ! A prisoner — 
 The Malvoisie from Paris — Cochrane thought 
 To cheat me of ray stirrup-cup. [Squire gives cup.\ Poui* 
 
 on ! 
 Let it shine upward to the brim. [Drinks.^ This cup 
 Was given by James's father to my father; 
 The crown is on the lid — the Scottish crown — 
 It is not half so solid as it looks. 
 
 See ! [ Wrenches crown off the cup and crushes itj 
 
 Speak I plain enough 1 the crown is dust ! 
 It had been better for this senseless king 
 To ha' let me go. It would have pleased me well 
 To deal with Mar. I must go higher now. 
 
 [Doors open, c. A flourish. 
 
 A Herald. Room for the king ! 
 
 Enter James, Cochrane, a?id Guards, c. 
 
 James. What is your quest. Lord Mar 1 
 
 Coch. I call for judgment on this traitor. 
 
 James. Angus, 
 What means this thing ] We've come expectant here, 
 By the advice of our true liegeman, IMar, 
 V/ho told us he would bring before our seat — 
 The seat of judgment, but of justice, too — 
 Traitors — he named them not — and you are here. 
 
SciENEl.] FEUDAL TIMES. 45 
 
 Ang. Ay, sir, a prisoner; seized in my own hall. 
 What reason has Lord Mar to call me traitor ? 
 If I make bold to redd my piivate quarrel 
 With the Lord Mar, Lord Mar is not yet king 
 That I have heard of, to make open feud 
 And a drawn sword a treason. If your grace 
 Thinks quarrelling with Lord Mar a crime 'gainst you; 
 And a rough man like me, that knows no more 
 Than his own tongue, is to be gagged or doomed 
 Because it pleases the Lord Mar, — Grod wot, 
 I must submit. 
 
 James. Say on, my Lord of Mar, 
 T try to steel my heart to a high deed. 
 As suits my office ; what is't he has done 1 
 
 Cocli. What has he done '? Lord Angus, give reply — 
 Here, in this awful presence, answer it. 
 What have you done 1 You've given your mailed hand 
 To banded traitors. You have promised aid 
 To England's thrall, rebellious Albany, 
 Who calls himself our king, and holds his crown 
 As Edward's vassal, 
 
 Ang. 'Tis too much, my liege ; 
 I have no dainty phrases to retort, , 
 
 Having no gift of speech : but it is false 
 What this man says — I dare him to the proof. 
 What I have done is this: — I have refused 
 To take command from such a man as Mar 
 In my own lands — Douglas for Douglasdale — 
 That's what I've done. 
 
 Coch. \^Gives the bond to James. ^ A moment's pause, my 
 liege ! 
 Listen. Do you hear the step of any one 
 Mounting the stair ] [Steps are heard. 
 
 Lennox, guarded, appears at door, r. 
 
 Do you see the face, my lords, 
 Of any one you know 1 
 
 Ang. If with this hand 
 I clutched his throat ! — Say on, I speak no more. 
 
 James. Is it all true. Lord Lennox 1 Are they joined 
 With our worst foes ] — their names all written here ? 
 
 Len. Alas, 'tis true. 
 
46 FEUDAL TIMES. j^Act IV 
 
 Gocli, 'Tis not in wrath I speak, 
 'Tis in your service. He is no king, my liege, 
 That quails before the look of bold-eyed crime. 
 What need of more % Their looks confess their guilt. 
 They set their lives at hazard ; and the chance 
 Is theirs, that fortune might have given to you : 
 They would have used their 'vantage on your life. 
 
 Ang. 1 think^ Lord Mar's too hasty. If your grace 
 Would let me whisper a few humble words — • 
 
 Cocli. No ; on the instant order them to the axe ! 
 
 James. My Lord of Mar, you are impatient; 
 
 \^After a jjause of indecision. 
 I'll hear him. 
 
 Coc/i. 'No, sir. You must speak the doom 
 Of them or me ; nay, in the pause, you weigh 
 Move than men's lives — your very crown, your name 
 Hang on the balance. If you'd have the throne 
 Made honourless, a seat for shame and weakness — 
 A pageant on a blood-stained theatre, 
 AVhere murder revels — a poor gilded chair, 
 Jostled aside by the unmannered wrath 
 Of mail-clad quarrellers — while you look on, 
 Voiceless, unvalued in the strife, — then go, 
 Speak to Lord Angus — pardon them, my liege. 
 But if you'd have the sceptre shine aloft, 
 A safeguard to the lowly— a rebuke 
 To haughty violence — an awful sign 
 Round which, as glory gathers round a star. 
 Shines the grave lustre of iVuthority — 
 If you would be- a man — to strive with men — 
 A king, to daunt the lawless — doom them, sir ! 
 They are guilty — be you just and resolute. 
 
 James. [After a 'pause?\ No, gentle Mar, I cannot pass 
 their doom ! 
 I'll follow the great lesson you have taught me. 
 And rather I forgive. — You'll be true men ] 
 You will not turn against us 1 
 
 Ang. We will serve you 
 As faithful liegemen. \To Cochrane.] I'm your debtor, 
 
 Sir, 
 But hope to pay you soon. 
 
 Jaynes. \To Cochrane.] You're angry with me: 
 
SclaeL] feudal times. 47 
 
 [ know that I was wrong ; but — 'twas too much — 
 I had not strength. 
 
 Ang. You'll find our lives more worth 
 Than dead men's hands, if Mar had had the power 
 To bend you to his aim. Get me my sword ; 
 r need it yet. \Nods to Cochrane^ Till our next meeting ! 
 Come, sirs. \E,xeunt Angus, Gray, (^fc, r. 
 
 James. Go now, my lords ; I would be left alone. 
 
 [Exeunt all hut Coclirane and James, l. — a pause. 
 I cannot look at you, Lord Mar ; 1 feel 
 I am not worth your friendship ; you will leave me — 
 I cannot bid you stay ; yet when you're gone — 
 When you breathe once again the ennobling air 
 Of happier lands — you'll think upon me, Walter, 
 As one who tried to reach your height, and failed ; — - 
 At least, as one who loved you. 
 
 Coch. Leave you, sir — 
 You did not think it. I have but one thought — 
 Your fame, your happiness. I will not leave you. 
 If foes gloom round you — if the dark day comes 
 When grief, when danger gather over you — 
 Strive with it ; I will aid you in the strife ; 
 There shall be one voice near to comfort you, 
 One arm to guard, one man to die for you I 
 
 James. Will you not leave me % — oh, I'm happy now ! — 
 Still stay with me, advise me, strengthen me 1 
 Oh, Walter, let my tears speak what I feel, 
 And cannot say. 
 
 Coch. Come, cheer you, sir, — e'en now 
 'Tis not too late. So kind a heart as yours 
 Wins loving service. Angus will ride forth 
 To join the array. You must precede him, sir 
 The royal flag must float o'er town and tower. 
 
 James. We shall set forward — oh, this very hour — 
 And reach the camp before the dawn of day. 
 Go to the Lady Margaret — bid her summon 
 Her clansirien from the following of Angus. 
 And you'll not leave me ! I scarce hoped for it ; 
 I have no words for thanks. Rejoin me soon. yExit, l. 
 
 Cocli. Good, kind — too good, too kind. The time 
 draws near 
 That ends this weary struggle. Let it come. \EiXity e. 
 
48 FEUDAL TIMES. - [Act IV. 
 
 Scene II. — A Room in Holyrood. 
 Margaret and Lady Drummond discovered. 
 
 Lady D. I cannot bear to see you weep. Weep not, 
 Dear Margaret. 
 
 Marg. Who was it told you I was weeping % 
 1 weep not ; if a tear come to my eye, 
 'Tis not of grief 
 
 Lady D, And what said Angus to you ? 
 
 Marg. He did not say; he barked, he grunted, bel- 
 lowed, 
 A dog, a boar, a bull — no man, no man. 
 I tell you, Drummond, if this hand — ah, me, 
 That it's so soft and small ! — if it had held 
 A dagger, he'd ha' spoke in different tones — 
 He would, I tell you ! 
 
 Lady D. Margaret, are you mad ] 
 
 Marg. Perhaps I am, and therefore bear with me ; 
 Bear with me, Drummond, let me lean on you ; 
 Give me a heart to trust to, if I weep. 
 But no, T will not weep. 
 
 Lady D. And so Lord Mar 
 Stood by you ; and he wears the Randolph colours. 
 Oh, he's so wise, that man ! I've heard them say. 
 Too wise. 
 
 Marg, Ah, Drummond, know you this, — that men 
 Who go far down into the deep earth's caves, 
 Down, down in darkness, out of sight and sound. 
 Look up through the thick night, and see the heaven 
 All filled with stars at mid-day ; — great bright stars, 
 That purblind eyes, blinking in the hot light, 
 See not 1 
 
 Lady D. Indeed 1 
 
 Marg. And so, perhaps, 'tis well 
 Not to live ever in the noonday sun, 
 But see the starlight in deep caves. 
 
 Lady D. Indeed ] 
 There is a sound, as if your words had meaning, 
 But I can't catch it. 
 
 Marg. Then, another thing: 
 I've heard, that when the traveller climbs the ridge 
 
SCEITE IL] FEUDAL TIMES. 4l 
 
 Of some far mountain, piercing the blue sky, 
 Up, up, far up in heaven — that on the top 
 Sound is not, and a dull, dead silence reigns. 
 Ever— -for ever in the unsyllabled air. 
 
 Ladij D. Well, Margaret 1 
 
 Marg. So, perhaps, the lowlier born 
 Catch voices that ne'er reach to such a height 
 As kings and nobles strain for. 
 
 Lady -D, You're above me, — - 
 I know not what you say ; I wish you'd tell me 
 Some pretty tale instead. 
 
 Marg. A pretty tale i 
 How Lady Drummond jogged along through life; 
 Did what her mother told her when a child ; 
 Married, because her father wished her married; 
 Follows her lord's commands, because it's right ; 
 Goes oft to mass, because the church requires it ; 
 Fasts all through Lent, and eats but fish on Fridays; — = 
 A happy, pleasant, easy, dear good woman, — 
 Who'd gape and quake as if she saw a spirit, 
 If a great Thought — a thing that fills the heart. 
 That lifts the soul, that shakes the poor frail limbs — 
 Entered her brain, flushed her pale brov/ and cheeks. 
 And filled her eye with tears. But, silly girl. 
 Why do I talk of tears 1 See, I'm not sad. 
 What I have here, may make me grave, calm, bold. 
 Not sad ; and therefore, Drummond, mark me welly 
 ['ve done with tears. 
 
 Enter an Attendant, L, 
 
 Attend. Please you, the Earl of Mar. 
 Marg. I'm glad he comes. 
 Lady D. I will not wait his presence. 
 I'll to the Queen. [Exit, r. 
 
 Enter Cochrane, l. 
 
 Marg. I looked for you ere this ; 
 The badge you wear assures you kindest welcome. 
 
 Coch. I have the king's command to visit you. 
 
 Marg, You rob your coming of its sweetest grace ; 
 I hoped 'twas by no king's command you came. 
 But willingly; but no, — ^forgive my idle talk, — 
 E 
 
50 FEUDAL TIMES. [Act IV. 
 
 There^s something on your brow— there is a look— - 
 Is the king safe 1 Does Angus yield and go 1 
 
 Cock. The host has moved for Lauder. 
 
 Marg. Angus with them 1 
 And Gray ] and Gairlies 1 But you'll not desert me 1 
 You'll wear my colours still 1 
 
 Coch. 1 had not dared 
 To lift my hopes so high — I feared — I thought; 
 You looked — you spoke j I dreamed you would not 
 deign — 
 
 Marg. Now, then, my lord : I have deserved this pang ; 
 'Tis time 1 make confession of my faults. 
 Oh, I was wrong — how wrong ! 1 knew you not ; 
 I was so thoughtless. Say you'll pardon me. 
 I had not strength to climb to the pure height 
 Of thoughts like yours. But tell me you forgive me. 
 
 Coch. Forgive you, lady ! 
 
 Marg. But I let my tongue 
 Rail on you, and ray eyes ; but they were false ! 
 There was an awe within me even then, 
 1 knew not why : I saw you placed so high 
 O'er other men. You seemed some momitain ridge 
 Far up, near heaven ; but cold : — and yet it caught 
 The sunshine first. You mast have thought me weak, 
 And harsh, and cruel. Do you forgive me. Mar ] 
 
 CocJi. Look not with eyes like these- — let me not hear 
 A voice like that, — they'll make the doom more sad 
 That hangs above me ; let me bear a life 
 Dark, joyless, — with no star to shine on it, 
 Save duty and allegiance ; let me not 
 Cherish a dream, — nay, turn you not away ; 
 1 would not have you turn away your eyes. 
 
 Marg. I thought you. told me not to look on you, 
 Nor speak ; I turn away from you 
 Because I would not you should see me weep. 
 
 Coch. No, weep not — there should never sorrow come 
 To eyes like yours. 
 
 Marg. Did you not say, a doom 
 Hung over you 1 And that your life was dark 
 And joyless] 
 
 Coch. AnA you weep 1 Oh, Margaret, 
 If 1 might taJie yOur hand, and look on you, 
 
ScEi^El.] FEUDAL TIMES. 51 
 
 And tell you — but, no, no ; it may not be ! 
 
 Marg. Wherefore 1 I know not what your words por- 
 tend ; " 
 But this I know : there beats one heart. Lord Mar, 
 That shares your grief, whate'er your grief may be, 
 That would be partner of the darkest doom 
 That can be yours. 
 
 Cock. And this to me — to me *? 
 Margaret, this hour o'ei-pays a life of grief. 
 Come what, come may, I've heard from those dear lips 
 Words that would sweeten death : ay, let it come ; 
 It cannot rob me of this ecstacy ! 
 
 Marg. Am I forgiven, Mar 1 
 
 Coch. Oh, ask me not ! 
 Let me but look into your eyes, and dream; 
 Words can add nothing to the perfect bliss 
 That binds us. 
 
 Marg. But you leave me for the host. 
 
 Coclf. Ay, love, to come to you again in joy. 
 With peace, war's holiest triumph, on my sword. 
 Let the base traitors threaten ; there's a power 
 Within me now shall quell them; and the spell 
 That chains them, — that wakes hope within my heart, 
 Strength in my arm, — shall be my Margaret's love ! 
 Come, dearest, to the king ; 'twill glad his heart 
 To see me happy. He will thank you ; come. [Exeunt j R. 
 
 END OF ACT IV. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 Scene L — The Tent of Angus at Lauder, 
 
 Enter Angus, Gairlies, Lords, and attendants, r. — Angus 
 putting on armour. 
 
 Ang. He said he'd speak my doom. My gauntlets, 
 knave ! 
 Let him look to his own. The dirk that came 
 Last week from Milan; the short sword I wore 
 At Rothesay, when I slew John of the Isles. 
 
62 FEUDAL TIMES. [AcT V. 
 
 Will daylight never come ] 
 
 Gair. I think a streak 
 Of glimmering light rests on the pennon points 
 O'er all the heath. 
 
 Ang. Let the same glimmer play- 
 On my sword blade ! Listen for their approach j 
 Cochrane and James will be among us soon ; 
 Then to it, my lords ! 
 
 Gair. There is a rapid tramp 
 Of horsemen coming down the Lauder Fell ; 
 Now they're across the bridge. 
 
 Ang, Are they in force 1 
 
 Gair. I guess not more than two or three score. 
 
 Ang. Away v,hen ! 
 Pause not, hold you your council in the church. 
 Lochleven, have my train drawn up. Ere long 
 I'll hold a parley with our lord, the king, 
 As suits us both. So, leave me now, my lords, 
 And wait my coming. \Exeunt, Lordsy R. 
 
 The grey dawn looks cold; 
 And fitful breezes sway the lazy folds 
 Of the white tents ; — what eye shall see them glow 
 In the hot blaze of noon 1 Will Mar's or mine 1 
 Not both, of that be sure ; unless— but, no — 
 It is not worth the trial. If he left 
 This nerveless king, and gave his aid to me, — 
 Angus and Mar, — who could gainsay us then ] 
 Not Albany, nor England, nor no Scot 
 In all the land ! With wisdom and a sword 
 Like his — Ha ! would he listen to it % 
 
 [Lefinox appears at door^ h. 
 Who's there ? 
 
 Enter Lennox. 
 
 Len. May I come in, Lord Angus ? 
 
 A?ig. Ay, my lord ; 
 'Tis easier than your going out will be. 
 Lord Lennox, traitor ! spy ! deceiver ! dog ! 
 Why does my dagger rest within its sheath ? 
 What want you here ] I had no wish to stain 
 My hand with such dishonoured blood as yours. 
 Speak, ere 1 slay you. 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 FEUDAL TIMES. 53 
 
 Len. I told nothing, Angus, — 
 Nothing I#ould conceal ; speak not so harshly; 
 I tell you, I will aid you to my best 
 Against the king, or Mar, or any one. 
 
 Anir. Oh, you are changed, then ! What is it you can 
 ^ do? 
 
 Len. All, any thing ; Lord Mar, if that's his name, 
 Has played me false ; wears Margaret Handolph's co- 
 lours ; 
 Claims her for bride, and has his claim allowed. 
 I'd slay him with this hand. 
 
 Ang. Oh, you speak well ; 
 But that's a work for worthier hand than yours. 
 What is't you want? I'd be alone, I tell you. 
 Go ; I remit your life : 'twould shame my blade 
 To lift it on a thing so poor as you. 
 Go, sir ! 
 
 hen. Lord Angus, 'twas to offer aid 
 I came to you. I bear command to-day 
 Oi the king's guard. 
 
 Ang. Ah ! well ; — what then 1 
 
 Len. T thought 
 1 might be useful. Give me but revenge ; 
 1 ask no more. 
 
 Ang. Revenge 1 and you command 
 The guard ? Well, then ; you shall have your revenge. 
 Withdraw your men when I'm in speech with James ; 
 I'll take their place with Douglases — ho ! ho ! 
 A good device. See that you fail me not. 
 Or Vv^e have some further settlement to make. 
 
 yroucldng Ills sword. 
 
 Len. I'll wait you. 
 
 Ang. Come, then ; James must be arrived 
 Ere this, — and some one welcomer than James. 
 
 [Exeunt, l. 
 
 Scene II. — Lander. Grey daivn. The Tents of the Array 
 seen on the Plain. Latider Chvrch in the distance. 
 
 Enter James and Cochrane, l. 
 Coch. We've rid through the thick night, and see at 
 
54 FEUDAL TIMES. [Act V. 
 
 The opening sky, where the awakened sun 
 Looks from his cradle in the curtained east.% 
 How still and silent is this morning hour, 
 As if, in breathless expectation, 
 It heard the distant coming of the day ! 
 
 James. No happy day. 
 
 CocJi. Ay, sir, a happy day. 
 If we will make it so ; a day shall bring 
 A glad train with him; bold-eyed Constancy, 
 Firm-hearted Hope, with Caution at his side. 
 And, God's best gift. Endeavour ! Without these 
 No day is happy ; with them, there's a light 
 To gild the darkest. 
 
 [Lennox leads in tlie guard ^ r., and stands motionless 
 at the hack of the stage. 
 
 James. And the host lies there. 
 Silent ! 1 know not what the cause may be, 
 But something weighs upon my heart. Ah, friend ! 
 
 [Leans on Cochrane' s shoulde? . 
 
 Coch. You have lacked sleep ; you've ridden in hot 
 speed : 
 I pray you, go you to your tent awhile, 
 And rest your limbs. 
 
 James. And you; where go you, Walter] 
 
 Coch. Oh, 1 have thoughts to keep me from my couch. 
 
 James. Ah, Walter, what a dull-eyed mole was I, 
 To see not that two hearts like yours could beat 
 But for each other ! 
 
 Coch. Both shall beat for you 
 In truest love and loyal watchfulness. 
 
 James. Is it not well I spared Lord Angus' life? 
 You blame me not for that 1 
 
 Coch. I trust 'tis well. 
 Where is his lordship's tent ? Young Daylight stands 
 On the far hill, and gathers round his head 
 The beams to make his crown that awes the world. 
 
 [Looks towards the tents. 
 They should be stirring, ere the lark on high 
 Sings his farewell to the pale mornirg star. 
 I must go rouse them for their work this day. 
 I'll come to you, ere long ; but rest meanwhile. [Exitj l. 
 [The guards go off, — Angus and the Douglases enter k. 
 
Scene IL] FEUDAL TIMES. 65 
 
 James. [Not perceiving the change.] This is a weary time ; 
 tMs clang of war 
 Jars on my heart ; an 'twere not for my faith 
 In Walter, and the strength my spirit draws 
 From his high thoughts, this life were but a weight 
 Numbing the soul. After too brief repose 
 I must enclasp this tired breast in mail, 
 And then for council ; well — 
 
 i.ng. [Coming fo7-ward.\ It needeth not. 
 
 Tames. Angus ! what mean you 1 
 
 Ang. I speak plain enough. 
 It needeth not that you take counsel, sir : 
 Our plans are fixed. 
 
 James. What thing is this 1 what speech % 
 p[ow dare you speak to your anointed king 
 I'l guise so harsh? 
 
 Ang. I speak not in such words 
 As your fair friends, — your minstrels, and such like ; 
 I'ut I speak plain. 
 
 James. Guards, seize this man ! 
 
 Ang. My liege, [Pointing to the Douglas standard,] see 
 you the banner 1 
 
 James. Treason ! what is this ] 
 
 Ang. No treason, sir, but justice. It is time 
 A. Scottish king kept worthier company. 
 
 James. What is't you mean % 
 
 Ang. I'll show you what we mean ; 
 /vnd your proud minion, Cochrane. 
 
 James. What of him 1 
 You mean not ill to him 1 Oh, spare him, Angus, 
 And I'll forgive you all. 
 
 Ang. I think, my liege, 
 'Twere better you reflect, when you forgive. 
 What's your forgiveness worth. The Douglases 
 Have something to forgive as well as you. 
 They've not forgotten how your father, sir. 
 Slew Douglas — basely, treacherously slew him. 
 In his own hall. There may be thoughts like tliese 
 In some that own his blood. 
 
 James. But you'll not dare 
 To take his life — to slay him ; him, so wise, 
 So good, so brave; Let me but go to him. 
 
56 FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 [Act V 
 
 A?ig. Move not an inch. I mean your grace no scaitb 
 Unless, unless — # 
 
 James. 'Tis not about myself; 
 I'd have you spare my friend, 
 
 Ang. [ To tlic Guards.] Let him not stir \ 
 I tell you, sir, the doom ere this is passed. 
 He dies, with all the crew of them. Nay, nay. 
 This is no time for holiday sweet words ; 
 'Tis at your peril if you move. 
 
 Enter Margaret in riding-cJoah and kood, r. 
 
 Marg. Come I in time ] 
 Oh, sir, 'I heard that treason was afoot,— 
 1 rode in headlong haste : oh, where is Mar ? 
 Angos — my liege — what does this silence mean ? 
 
 A7ig. It means that we are trampled on no longer. 
 
 James. It means that Mar is doomed. 
 
 Ma7g. Then it was true ! 
 Angus, I kneel before you ; tell me — tell me, 
 What is't you do? Oh, sir, have pity on him,— - 
 Pity on me ! — I never thought to live 
 To ask your pity, — -but — have pity on me ! 
 
 Avg. It makes my cheek grow red to listen to you, 
 A Randolph asking pity for that man ! 
 
 Jaines. Save him. Lord Angus ! Is it. power you as) f 
 I give you power, wealth, all that you can w4sh ; 
 33ut let me hear that Cochrane is in safety. 
 
 Aug. Go, sir ! It fits you ill to waste your breath 
 In suit so idle. Lead his grace to his tent. 
 
 James. Say that you'll save him ere I go. 
 
 Ang, Fareivell. 
 Move him away, I say. 
 
 \The King goes off ivith the Guards^ l. 
 
 Mai'g. Where is Lord Mar \ 
 If 'tis too late to save him, let me share 
 The fate that may be his : in life or death— 
 In weal or woe, our doom is one forever. 
 
 Ang. Perhaps 'tis not too late. 
 
 Marg. What ! not too late 1 
 Oh, Angus, I will ]ove you from this hour. 
 As never daughter loved her sire before ; 
 I'll tend upon your steps, where'er you go, — 
 
Scene III.] FEUDAL TIMES. 57 
 
 I'll place a crown of blessings on your head 
 With my dear prayers. Tell me 'tis not too late ! 
 
 Aug, It rests with him and you. I hate him not ^ 
 Albeit he would have given me to the axe. 
 
 Marg. Rests it with me % name but the price you ask, 
 Tell me what I may do to save his life. 
 Oh, he will do your best, whate'er it be, 
 For it will give him back to me ! Come, Angus, 
 Take me to where he is. Let me but see him, — 
 I tell you, T will win him to your will. 
 His life — his life ! Oh, give me but his life ! 
 And I will wear you ever in my heart. 
 Come, come. 
 
 Ang, Build not your hopes too high. 
 
 Marg. Come, come. [Exeunt, r. 
 
 Scene III. — The Church at Lcmdei'. A great door at the 
 hack of the Stage with a wichet in it. Lords, Gairlies, 
 ^•c., discovered. 
 
 Enter Lennox, hurriedly, l. 
 
 Len. Cochrane is on his way : — now life or death 
 For him cr us, is as this hour shall send. 
 
 Gair. What shall we do 1 
 
 Len. Where is the Earl of Angus ? 
 He spoke so boldly when no danger threatened ; 
 He should be here. 
 
 Gair. Are we to kill the man 1 
 
 Gray. Angus has sworn he'll do it. 
 
 Le7i. So would I, 
 If, if— 
 
 Enter Cochrane, r. 
 
 Coch. What make you here, my lords ! 'Twere time 
 To strike the tents, and blow the horn for march. 
 What holds you dumb ? Come, I am unwelcome here ? 
 
 Bish. Your lordship, you were scarce expected yf"t ; 
 We thought — 
 
 Gray [and the others jmsliing Lennox\. Go forward. 
 
 Licn. No, not I. 
 
 Gair. I will, then. 
 
 Coch. \To 5/s/^] Well, my lord, what was your thought? 
 
68 FEUDAL TIMES. [ActV. 
 
 Gair. [Touching Cochrane' s hunting horn.\ That yoti 
 have blown the horn too long — a rope 
 Would suit you better. 
 
 Coch. Are you in earnest, sir ] 
 Or is it a mock ] 
 
 Gair. No mock, as you shall find. 
 
 Lords. No mock, no mock. 
 
 Coch. [To the Lords, and seizing Gairlies.] Give vv^ay, 
 there, coward lord ! 
 Say your last prayer. 1 would not slay your soul; 
 Hence, or your lives are dust ! What mean you, sir, 
 By words so bold 1 
 
 Gair. Nothing, my lord. 
 
 Coch. Be safe, 
 And keep a watch upon your Irabbling tongue. 
 
 [Releases hirn. 
 
 Bish. Ala.s, sir, 'twas a foolish fro wardness ; 
 They knew not what they did. Give me some speech 
 Apart, I pray you. 
 
 Coch. Let their lordships go. 
 
 [ Watches them as they go out. 
 
 Gair. [To Gray, as they are going.] We'll bar the outer 
 door till Angus comes ; 
 He leaves not this alive. 
 
 Gray. A good stout twine, 
 And a high gallow^s tree. [Exeunt Lords, l. 
 
 Coch. [ To Bishojj.]^ And now, my lord. 
 What is it you would tell me 1 
 
 Bish. [Putting off time till Angus comes. \ Oh, my lord, 
 This is a sinful time. Alas, how black 
 Are all our hearts, how sunk from innocence ! 
 
 Coch. Wein 
 
 Bish. Would it not be wise for even the best 
 To put no trust in fleshly arms like these % 
 
 Coch. Alas, my lord, I looked not at this time 
 For homily so grave. 
 
 Bish, Then, sir, 1 leave you. [Shouting outside. 
 
 I think I but disturb you. [Exit, l. 
 
 Coch. What is this 1 
 There's more in this than meets the eye or ear : 
 That taunt, that insult. [Going. 
 
Scene III] FEUDAL TIMES. 59 
 
 Enter Angus a7id Margaret, l. — Margaret, wrapt in a 
 cloak, remams hehind, 
 
 Ang. Rest you, good ray lord. 
 
 Coch. You, too ! 'Twere better we should meet no 
 more. 
 
 Ang. But we have met, — and by St. Bride of Douglas, 
 The odds are great we ne'er shall meet again. 
 Look you, Lord Mar — nay, interrupt me not — 
 I'll tell my own plain tale as suits me best: 
 You think I hate you. Well, I love you not; — 
 The reason why, you know : these other lords 
 Have doomed you to a death, within this hour, 
 That fits not a brave man ; and that you're brave. 
 And wise, and kind, he'd be a bold-tongued knave 
 That would gainsay when I am by. 
 
 Coch. Go on. 
 
 Ang. The doors are guarded by your enemies ; 
 They'd take your life, — nay, 1 would do it myself, 
 If you refused my offer. 
 
 CocJi. I refuse it. 
 I know not what it is. It comes from you — 
 I spurn it, I refuse it. 
 
 Ang. Think again. 
 'Tis but to live in quiet in this realm. 
 In your own castle, happy, powerful, rich, 
 But friendly to my cause. 
 
 Coch. Pray you, my lord, 
 Tell me no more. You say the doors are guarded 
 With hostile swords ; if they were multiplied 
 By twenty times their number, and each sword 
 Were pointed by a Douglas, you should fail 
 To move my soul one jot. Hostile or not, 
 I care not. My bright blade, that never flashed 
 Save in the sunlight of an honoured cause. 
 Serve me in this my need, as thou hast done 
 In strait as great as this ! 1 warn you, sir, 
 Your life is hanging on a thread ! 
 
 Ang. Reflect. 
 Ten minutes shall be yours ; and in my place 
 I leave a better pleader than myself, 
 To counsel von ; nnd so [ leave you. 
 
60 FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 [Act V, 
 
 [ While speakings he leads Margaret to Cochrane^s side, 
 and goes out, l., Jooking hack at them. Cochran&, 
 turned away from Margaret, does not see her. 
 
 Coch. Doomed 
 To shameful death ! And Angus offers life— 
 And what is life ] what is the fatal charm 
 In that short word, that plays about the heart, 
 And sways it 1 'Tis a vain, blank, worthless thing : 
 A sword half drawn, and sheathed in the same breath ; 
 A flickering leaf, falling from tree to ground ; 
 A flight by a jDOor bird 'tween two black cliffs 
 Across some narrow valley ; for brief space 
 Sunshine falls on its wings ; a minute more, 
 And all is da.rk again. And for this thing 
 Does Angus think to ben-d me to his wish 1 
 You cannot move nie, sir, from what I've said : 
 Leave me, I charge you. 
 
 Marg. Mar ! 
 
 Coch. My Margaret ! 
 What blessed angel brought you to my side ? 
 Nay, you're the angel's self, and in the gloom 
 Of hour like this, how cheering is the light 
 Of your kind eyes ! 
 
 Marg. Ay, Walter, they are kind. 
 And will be ever kind ; and we shall yet 
 Be happy — oh i how happy — if you yield — 
 No, not to Angus — if you yield to me. 
 Will you not yield to me ] 
 
 Coch. I know your heart 
 Too well to think you'd plead for anything 
 That brought dishonour with it. Shall 1 yield 
 To you 1 Yes, I will yield. 
 
 Marg. And leave the strife 
 Of pride and anger to those desperate men 1 
 While we — Oh, Walter, what a life of joy 
 Will shine on us ! — never to part again — 
 In some far spot, in our own peaceful home, 
 Together, still together, till we die ! 
 Tell Angus you consent. Oh, thanks for this ! 
 I'll pay you for it all my life with love ! 
 
 Coch. Consent to what 1 
 
 Marg. To be Lord Angus' friend ; 
 
Scene III.J FEUDAL TIMES. 61 
 
 To leave the court, to live in peaceful state. 
 
 Far from tumultuous thrones and wayward kings. 
 
 Cocli. [Looking to the door.] What ! tempt me to, my 
 ruin by these lips 1 
 Villain, I tell you, no ! — My Margaret, 
 You know not what you ask. You bid me lift 
 My sacrilegious hand upon my friend, — 
 You bid me be a traitor to the king, 
 False to my country, and unworthy you. 
 You ask me — no, you know not what you ask. 
 I thought you knew me. 
 
 Marg. Once I thought my heart 
 Was nobler than I find it : once I thought 
 I could have died with gladness ; but, ah me, 
 I feel I am but a girl, a poor weak girl : 
 I wished to have you mine, to be your own. 
 Your wife, your all ! I cannot see you die, 
 When we might be so happy if you lived ! 
 Will you not yield 1 
 
 Coch. And be a thing for scorn % 
 So vile, that all the mountains of the earth. 
 Heaped in one pile on my dishonoured head, 
 Would fail to hide me 1 Think on what you ask. 
 Arid tell me you would rather have me die. 
 Than live the slave that they would turn me to. 
 
 Marg. I would not have you change from what you 
 are : 
 But I am weak ; I thought I was more strong. 
 
 Ang. [At door.] Does he consent 1 
 
 Coch. No ! 
 
 Marg. Yes ; a moment, Angus. — - 
 Oh, Mar ! 
 
 Coch. What % is it Margaret Randolph's voice 
 That tries to win me to disgrace 1 I knew not— 
 I was most wrong — forgive me, that my heart 
 Deceived me in this thing. 
 
 Marg. No, no ! away 
 False womanish fancies ! You shall see me, sir, 
 FiiTQ as yourself. I thought not of the price 
 They claimed for their forbearance. 
 
 Coch. Now you speak 
 . As suits your noble nature, Margaret. 
 
 F 
 
 1 
 
62 FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 This is no time for honeyed words of peace. 
 What mean those men 1 
 
 Marg. They mean your death. 
 Coch. I know. 
 
 Marg. A base — base death, so bitter is their wrath. 
 Ang. [At door.] Come, does he yield ? the clock is on 
 the stroke; 
 When it strikes six, he lives my friend, or dies 
 A felon's death ! I cannot change the doom. 
 
 [S/wuting witJio'. 
 Marg. They've seized the king ! 
 Cocli. Ha ! open wide the door ! 
 I'll hew my way through all the fiends in hell ! 
 
 Marg. They will not open. Back ! come back, dear 
 Mar ! 
 They're in strong force. Oh ! if the hour is come, 
 Save you from the dishonour of their touch ; 
 They'll shame the glories of your noble life 
 With hangman-hands ; they'll drag you to a death— 
 I'd have you meet a man's death as a man, 
 But not the death they'd have you die — not that. 
 See, I've no tremor now. Shew Roman courage ! 
 
 \She offers him a dagger. 
 CocJi. [Rejecting it.] I have a nobler courage than the 
 Roman's — 
 Submission : not with coward, hopeless hand, 
 Shall I strike out the holy lamp of life. 
 Margaret, this is the last time we shall part ; 
 Farewell ! farewell ! — Now, Angus, ope the door ! 
 
 [The clock strikes during this, the door opens, and Coch- 
 rane rushes out — clashing of sivords and clamour. 
 Marg. Guard him, all angels ! aid him ! 
 Coch. [ Without.] To the king ! 
 
 [He is forced hack, wounded — he defends the entrance 
 —Margaret bars the wicket. 
 To the kin,^ ! to the king ! 
 
 Marg. Mar, Mar ! you are in blood — 
 You're wounded — faint— 
 
 Coch. No, no, the door, I say ! 
 
 Marg. Lean on me, Mar ; how feel you, dearest Mar ? 
 Coch. As one who struggles in a summer sea, 
 Far from the land, with tired arms, and waves 
 
r 
 
 Scene 1 1 1. J 
 
 FEUDAL TIMES. 
 
 63 
 
 All round him. \A great Icnocking at the main door, as if 
 
 to force it in; shoutings Sfc] Mari^aret, give me 
 
 your sweet hand ; 
 If I had lived to thank you for your love — 
 If I had lived — but — [Sinks to the ground — a pause — noise 
 
 outside,] Tell our lord the king, 
 I tried to make him honoured, loved, and feared: 
 If I had reached his tent, I would have died 
 As suits a Scottish noble — at the feet 
 Of his kind king, Margaret, what bliss it is 
 To see you thus ! I bless you as I die. 
 
 [The great door is hurst open ; Angus and the others 
 
 appear ; Cochrane, hy an effort, springs up and 
 
 clutches his sword. 
 Back ! back ! the ground she treads is holy ground ! 
 Back ! back ! — Ha ! [Staggers forward and dies, 
 
 ivlarg. Heard you what he said ] Give place ! 
 Away ! my heart's on fire ! I'll have revenge ! 
 Traitor and murderer ! [Rushes on Angus' sword, 
 
 'Tis but what I wished ; 
 
 I thank your sword for giving me this death. — 
 Walter, they tried to keep me from your side ; 
 They cannot do it ! How happy 'tis to die 
 Thus ! [Dies. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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