University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

King of Scotland, Perkin, Courtiers, &c.
K. Scot.
Cousin of York, England's undoubted Prince,
To our Court welcome! Welcome to our Heart!
Welcome to Scotland's dearest Blood and Treasure!
Which, in Support of thy undoubted Right,
We promise to pour forth.

Perkin.
Gracious King!
Godlike, puissant, and benificent,—
And still a Title far more glorious,
Friend to Distress and Father to the Wretched;
Prostrate before your royal Feet, behold
A Prince, whose Woes, nor Time, nor weeping Pity,
With all the Store of Wretchedness they've seen,
Can match; a Prince, sprung from the noblest Blood
That ever rul'd fair Albion's Sea-wash'd Isle;
The high, the regal once;—but now the out-cast,
Miserable, forlorn Plantagenet.
O royal Sir, Afflictions numberless
Have rooted in my Heart,
Ev'n from our princely Cradle, to our landing
On your hospitable Shore, Fortune, adverse
And cruel, with her Whip of Thorns hath scourg'd us.
Where e'er we went, we've been pursued and dog'd,
By wither'd Murder; the pale Assassin
Of blood-thirsty Usurpation.

K. Scot.
Rise, royal Cousin, most unhappy Youth!

(Sevez takes him up)
Perkin.
My Uncle first, unnatural, crooked Richard,—
Savage and bloody—by my dying Father
Appointed Guardian of the infant Lives
Of princely Edward, and myself, subborn'd
Two hellish Murderers, at dead of Night,
To plunge their Poignards in our guiltless Hearts,
As we lay sleeping in our royal Tower.—
Edward's rich Blood the Butchers soon let forth.—
His Skriek of Death awak'd me;—when Horror!
Stiffening Horror! seiz'd my frighted Soul!
Close by my Side I saw my dying Brother
All weltring in his Gore; Murder's butcher'd Prey!
The grim Assassins,—
Their Hands yet reeking with the royal Blood
Seized me.—shuddering,—I kneel'd and beg'd for Mercy!
Instantly!
As if great Providence had interposed,
The Murderers,—Soul-struck,—stood ghast and flank!
At length soft Mercy, and relenting Nature,
Warm'd about their Hearts; and the up-rais'd Hand,
Unnerv'd by Pity, the fatal Dagger dropt.

Sevez.
O heav'nly Care of injur'd Royalty!

K. Scot.
We must be Marble not to melt at this.

Perkin.
The repenting Men,
With Tears assur'd me of my Life and Safety;
And straight returning to my cruel Uncle,
Deceiv'd him with th'Account that both were dead.
To Tournay thence with Speed I was convey'd,
And there, for some Time, obscurely foster'd;
Till at length, Margaret of Burgundy,
My loving Aunt, declar'd me Edward's Son.
How I have since been toss'd by Fortune's Tempests
Is in the living Volume register'd
Of all Mens Tongues.

K. Scot.
Cousin of England, so I now proclaim you,
In the full Presence of our Nobles here,
Once more, of Aid, and Faith-ty'd Amity,
We give thee royal, and sincere Assurance.
Sevez, give Order that throughout our Realm
He be acknowledged England's rightful King,
With such Appointments, and due Observance
As appertain to unquestion'd Majesty;
And to stamp his Person still more sacred,
Here in our Court shall be his Coronation,—
Sevez, set Preparation forward.

Sevez.
My Leige, I will.

K. Scot.
Say, is our Council summon'd; are they ready.

Sevez.
They are my gracious Prince.

K. Scot.
And are the Lords
Of Huntley, Angus, and Daliel summon'd?

Sevez.
They are.

K. Scot.
'Tis well:—My welcome Cozin, be chearful;
For some few Days, what Pleasures can be found
In Scotland's Court we wish thee to partake;
We'll after march to England, and taste their's;
Where we'll exchange the hospitable Word
Which now you wear, and in my Turn I'll be
Your royal Guest; and e'er 'tis long
We hope to dance a Measure in your Court.

Exeunt all but Sevez and Frion.
Sevez.
Thus far the Gale blows right, and all goes well,—
But, Frion, we must leap another Bound;
Another Danger still must be encounter'd;
I must apprize thee that our Scotch Nobility,
Proud, and tenacious of their antient Rights,
Vent daily murmurs and form close Cabals;
Forsake the Court, and bitterly inveigh
Against the Church; as having usurp'd of late
Too much Authority in temporal Sway.
‘Loud are their Complaints that by Priests and Frenchmen
‘They are precluded from the Royal Ear.
Some of these factious Spirits have been quell'd,
Some of them banish'd, and their Lands confiscate;
Others imprison'd, nay and some cut off:
Yet still their dreaded Leaders do remain;
Alexander Gordon, Earl of Huntley,
The young Lord Daliel,
And Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus.
‘Still they erect their Crests, and with Impunity,
‘Vent their black Malice 'gainst the Church and us.

Frion.
‘How have they scap'd?

Sevez.
‘Thro' Fear, not Lenity.
‘Their Friends are numerous, their Possessions large;
‘Their Deaths wou'd be Forerunners of our Ruin.
‘Else, let me speak it like a true Romish Church-Man,
‘Their irksome Beings had not now perplex'd us.
They have absented long from Court and Council;
But late a special Summons from the King
Has order'd their Attendance here to Day,
On Pain of Banishment and Confiscation.

Fri.
But, holy Sir, I doubt these headstrong Lords
Will not assent to aid our Perkin's Claim.

Sevez.
No Matter, Frion, we can do without them;
‘For me, I'm determin'd; and for the King,
‘He acts by my controuling Will, not his own.
‘It is not prudent that the Church of Rome
‘Should e're let Kings or Rulers think for themselves;
‘Th'unerring See should ever be their Guide.
As to those heretic Lords, their Assent
For Perkin is our least Concern. We have
More important Views upon them.—Death, Death.
Frion, Huntley must not live, he stalks and roars
But one Day more in Freedom's spacious Forest.
The Toil is set for th'unwily Lion;
And his own boundless Spirit drives him in.
He thinks the King mislead, and will bellow
Without Guile or Guard; for the Fool is brave,
Ev'n to romantick Madness. ‘Scotland's Good
‘So strongly burns within him, it appears
‘His only Passion. Freedom is his God;
Which he so idolizes, he would make
The World his Proselytes, did they but hear him.

Frion.
Lord Sevez, 'tis not fit such Men exist.

Sevez.
O they are dangerous in a Court like ours,
Where the King's Interest wanders from the Peoples.
But his Majesty's prepar'd,—and resolved
This Day, by my Advice, to silence Huntley's
Free speaking, or his Head answer th'Default.

Frion.
Omniscient Wisdom still directs your Mind
And points your Purpose to some holy End.
But, my right reverend Sir, one thing remains
Unsettled yet, which only you can finish:—
You know this Perkin burns for Huntley's Daughter,
Scotland's gay Ornament, and Nature's Pride;
This Angel-looking Maid, this Katherine Gordon,
To young Lord Daliel has been late betroth'd,
The Follower and fervent Friend of Huntley;
Your Wonder-working Wisdom now must break
This fatal Knot, or England's blazing Crown
Will sit like Death upon his princely Head.

Sevez.
This Business in the Council has been weigh'd;
The King resolves to gratify his Wish,
And give the lovely Katherine to young Perkin.
Which Match will either fix this dangerous
Huntley in our Cause, or with enraged Madness
Break his proud stubborn Heart: For his Daughter
Next to Liberty is his earthly Idol.
But I must leave you;—for the Council sits
To sound those factious Lords.—I must attend.

Exit.
Frion.
My Brother Priest is zealous in our Cause;
His Pride and Avarice must be the Tools,
With which we work.—They are sharp and handy
And in a Priest, who sways the royal Mind,
Will rid much Business: Gordon's lovely Daughter,
(Who is of royal Blood) to Perkin join'd,
Will knit the Scots to us, indissolubly.
For after Marriage, should they find the Cheat,
'Twill then become their Interest to conceal it;
Nay to espouse it too.—Which if they do refuse,
The Magazines of Rome's affrighting Vengeance,
In damning Bulls, and terrible Anathemas,
Shall to the liquid Gulph of penal Flames
Devote their black, their superstitious Souls,
Till Penitence and Gold buy out their Pardon.

Exit.