University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Crichton, Douglas.
Crichton.
Indeed my Lord, you set an overvalue
On this poor instance of our just respect.

Douglas.
The States, my Lord, by this their act have shown—

Crichton.
No compliments!—What could the States do less?
The great, my Lord, have always been abus'd,
By sanguine tempers and licentious tongues;
Such, with a wicked pleasure, watch their steps,
Abroad, at home, not privity can screen
From the malignant glance of envy's eye.
In popular assemblies still we find
Weak men, who sway'd by vulgar prejudice,
Can swallow ev'ry tale by malice whisper'd,
To hurt them, in the publick estimation.
Such think not for themselves, but blindly plunge
Into the stream of error; those who see,
And know their danger, should in pity lend
Their hand, to help them out—We did no more.

Douglas.
My Lord, your conduct is an ample proof,
That you adopt this generous sentiment.

Crichton.
My Lord, your servant!—Flatt'ry is a vice
My soul detests: yet give me leave to say,
The house of Douglas merits the respect
The States have shown it.

Douglas.
If it shall appear,
That I, or mine, by accident have wrong'd
The meanest subject in his right, or giv'n
Protection to the miscreant who did;
An ample satisfaction shall be made.
I reverence the laws: let him stand forth
Who says I wrong'd him; humbly I'll reply,
Conscious that justice will decide between us,
And give to each his due. While heav'n permits
My heart to beat, I firmly mean to act
To others, as I wish they would to me.
The honour of my country, and my King,
Shall, like a precious jewel, always hang
Next to my heart, and to my soul be dear.

Crichton.
Such noble sentiments confirm the hopes
Your character inspir'd. While thus you act,
The Sov'reign's just respect, the subjects love,
And what exceeds them both, a heart approv'd,
Will be the happy issue; this, my Lord,
Is an ambition worthy of your birth.
My lord the Regent, much your friend my Lord,
And I, had waited of you long ere now,
But that we were advis'd great art was us'd,
To make you look upon us as your foes.

Douglas.
I must confess, that some about me strove
To keep us still assunder, and to give
Impressions, which I could not think were just.

Crichton.
It cannot be deny'd, your noble father
Upon the justest grounds was discontent:
He saw the first, the most distinguish'd trusts,
Conferr'd on men in all respects below him;
Himself neglected, tho' his rank, his parts,
His virtue and experience gave a title,
Which factious envy only could dispute.
The States, my Lord, whate'er their motive was,
Conferr'd those offices on us, unask'd.
Perhaps as they put by my Lord of Douglas,
The more to shew their pow'r, thy fix'd on men,
Whose humble views could never have aspir'd
To such distinguish'd rank, and sacred trust.
The never-ceasing toils, the restless nights,
Which statesmen must put up with, were they known,
Would melt the heart of envy into pity.
A temporary pow'r, a local title,
Too dear are purchas'd! Would that I had spurn'd
The shining baubles, and liv'd retir'd, in peace.

Douglas.
The offices you bear, are so essential
To order, to the publick-good, that some
Must needs have bore them. Providence hath mix'd
In human life the bitter with the sweet:
My Lord, I mean not, that a sounding title,
Appointments and precedence are rewards,
Proportion'd to the weighty cares of State,
These, tho' the food of envy, cannot charm
A generous spirit, conscious of its worth.
To stay the proud oppressor's hand; to raise
Declining virtue; to preserve the State
From foreign bondage, and intestine broils;
To chear the orphan, and make glad the heart
Of humble poverty; are acts of pow'r,
Which shed a pleasing influence on the soul.

Crichton.
I grant they are. But where's the man can promise,
A happy issue to the best designs?
A thousand accidents may intervene,
To render his attempts to serve the State
Abortive, and himself the game of fools.
I say not this, with an intent to check
That strong propensity to serve the publick,
For which your house hath ever been distinguish'd.
How base were that!—It is a generous flame
Which warms the patriot's breast: his ample heart,
Expanded wide, in holy union holds
The happiness of myriads yet unborn,
Connected with his own.

Douglas.
As yet, my Lord,
The cool experience, the superior skill,
Th'extensive knowledge both of men and things,
Requir'd to fit a man for publick life,
Are not in me. Long may the State be serv'd,
By men whose parts are equal to their trust.

Crichton.
A modest diffidence hath ever been
The sign of genuine worth: in youth it charms,
Nor less delights in age. Experience adds
A weight to counsel, and a grace to virtue;
Thus far it may, but years can never give,
What nature has deny'd—Your friend my Lord.
[Exit Crichton.