University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Caerlaverock Hall.
Halbert Comyne.
Comyne.
Fresh smells the air of morning; and I see
Red in the eastern heaven. 'Tis some hours now
Since I have wash'd my hands, yet none return
From the good greenwood and the deep wide sea,
To greet me with good tidings. Hubert! Hubert!
Thou that dost errands swift as thunder doth,
Why lingerest thou? What! has the green ground gaped
And swallow'd them up too? Even the yare sea,
That ne'er refused the bloodiest offering, keeps
Present and giver both. O! this doth mix
Perdition in my sugar'd cup. Now, now
I hear the sound of coming feet—no, no;
Cursed wind, this is thy mockery; mayest thou
Ne'er slumber 'mongst the odorous violets more,
But sleep on rotten fens. Now I must wear
The aspect of amazement and strange horror:
Terror must seem to sway my tongue, and straight
Must fearful words escape it. I must call
With the voice of one who sees some fearful shape,
To which creeds give no credence. Tut—no more;
I shall wear looks that might seduce the stars
To shoot down for mere pity.—Ho! awake!
Awaken! rise! or sleep till the sharp steel
In murderers' hands invade you. Will you sleep
Till the blood of slaughter'd bodies flood your couches?
Awake! or drowse till doomsday. Haste, oh haste!
Ring the alarm bell! let the trumpet sound
Till it shakes down the cedars!

Enter Servants.
First Servant.
What, oh what,
Means this most fearful summons?

Comyne.
Thou blank fool,
Thou slumbering coward, may perdition seize
Those that can slumber now! Yet thou couldst sleep
At the loud thunder's elbow! Haste, now haste!
Warn all the warlike vassals of thy lord!
Saddle the fleetest steeds! Dost tarry still?

Sec. S.
What, in the name o' the eagle and the rood,
Calls for this sudden summons?

Comyne.
Thou sleepest yet,
Thou creature made up in a hasty moment;
Now, by the blood of thy good lord that reeks
Yet on the sword that shed it, I'll make thee
The ravens' meat.

Enter Women.
First Woman.
Now what means a' this din?

Com.
My bonnie maid, thine eyes are sparkling yet
With dreaming of caresses. My old dame,
Bind up thy gray locks, and go to thy prayers:
Hast thou been revelling late? Can sixty years
Be tempted like sixteen?—Foh!

Second Woman.
Me, sir! me, sir!
A king on a throne—a preacher o' the word—
Nay, even the laird of Collistown himself,
Laird of three miles o' moorland, shouldnae tempt
A dame sedate as me: my certe! tempted?

Comyne.
Not armed yet, you tardy rustics! Arm!
Mount! spur! the spoiler has fallen upon your house,
And I alone am left: come, mount and follow.

Second Servant.
I'm arm'd; and, Halbert Comyne, swift as thine
My steed shall fly; as sharp shall smite my sword;
So let us hasten:—who has done this deed?
Where is my lord, and my thrice honour'd lady,
And young Sir Marmaduke?

Comyne.
All dead and gone!
'Twas at the morn's third hour—Be those slaves arm'd?
I heard a shriek; and, ere I rose, a groan
Came from a dying man.—I snatch'd my sword,
Flew down the stair, and, lo! the hall was full
Of armed men, and they had slain thy lord,
Ta'en captive his fair lady and her son.

Second Servant.
Oh, words of woe! who can have done this deed?

Comyne.
They were all men of evil mien, all arm'd
With brand and dagger, and, in desperate deeds,
Skilful they seem'd; and they were closely swathed
In dark gray mantles; o'er their brows were pull'd
Their plumed bonnets, while to the full moon
They held their brands, and mutter'd chosen scraps
Of Scripture threatenings, and to bloody meaning
Did turn each spotless word.

(Exeunt.)