University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

An Apartment in the Castle of Edinburgh.
Enter Huntley, follow'd by an Officer of the Castle.
Hunt.
Marry'd! crown'd! pardon'd! Say,
Who pardon'd me?

Off.
The King.—

Hunt.
I say you are deceived, it cannot be.

Off.
My Lord, 'tis certain she is marry'd and crown'd; the
Legate himself join'd their Hands.
(And your Pardon is the Consequence of the Marriage.)
And now with
Regal State, and pompous Train she journeys towards England.

Hunt.
O Katherine! Katherine, is this thy Reward
For all my anxious Care to form thy Mind!
Was it for this you came to offer Life?
Ambitious Syren.—Yes, I will accept it.
I will, Kate, but it shall be to glut my Vengeance.
Crown'd! pardon'd! regal State! vain, ambitious,
Proud, infamous Woman! O Happiness,
Happiness, Fancy's delusive Child,
Which every Fool creates, and no sooner
imag'd into Form, but th'airy Being
Vanishes to Sorrow!
Mine was compos'd
Of Scotland's Weal, and my Katherine's Virtue;
But Rome hath ruin'd one, and Woman's Pride
The other.

Enter Sir David Bruce.
[loud knocking without]
Sir David.
See who knocks, but be sure let none enter
[to the Officer.]
My Lord, I grieve to be the Messenger,
But by a special Order, just received,
The short Space of a fleeting Hour
Is your Life's utmost Limit.

Hunt.
An Hour, Sir!
Why Bruce, I thought my Daughter's Infamy
Had pleaded to the King for royal Mercy.

Sir David.
'Tis true, my Lord, the King did promise Life
To you, Angus, and Daliel; but e're he
Set forth for England, he sign'd this Warrant
For your Deaths.

Hunt,
Then, Queen Kate, thou wilt escape my Vengeance;
Fate, I find, hath reserv'd thee for his own Wrath.

Enter Officer with a Letter.
Off.
Sir, a Post from Court hath brought this Letter
For Lord Huntley.

[Sir David takes it from him and gives it Huntley
Hunt.
For me Sir?—'tis Katherine's Character
Once as welcome to my Eyes, as rising Sun
To new-recover'd Sight; now irksome as Perfidy.
What a Comfort, amidst Calamity,
Wou'd this have been, had she not fall'n to Guilt
Inexpiable!
O she was once as fair, and innocent
As was her Parent Eve, when first
She waken'd from Creation—but Satan's
Towering Crime, Thirst of imperial Sway,
Hath wrought her fall, and blackn'd all her Virtue.

Sir Dav.
My Lord,
I cannot think your Daughter's Crime—

Hunt.
Dear Bruce, Pity me.
For Sorrow's Dart ne'er reach'd my Heart till now!
The foolish Father hath quite unmann'd me,
And hath brought out all the stifled Weakness
Of busy fondling Nature, which will have Vent,
In Spite of Art; and what I thought had quite
Engross'd me, Scotland's Love.—But I'm deceiv'd—
For the Father's Folly, I find, is uppermost,
And Rage and Sorrow rend my Heart, and my
Weak Eyes burn with scalding Rheum. O Katherine,
Did I e're think thou'dst make old Huntley weep!
Thou hast done what Death and slaughter ne'er cou'd do.
But, she's gone—fallen, and unworthy another Tear.
But come, now let us see her regal Stile,
Her royal Apology for accepting
Sovereign Sway,—and breaking a Father's Heart.

SIR,

(Opens the Letter, and after having read the Address, his Grief returns, which interrupts his Power to read.
Dear Bruce, pity, pity an old Man's Weakness!
Nay, I know you will, you must—for you are
Your self a Father, and know what fond Fools
Nature makes of us—prithee Bruce, read it.
(Gives him the Letter.
For my Eyes have full Employment—unman'd,—
Quite, quite unman'd!
(Bruce reads.

SIR,

‘I have broke the Bond of Duty with the best of
Fathers, of Honour and Affection with the
most deserving of Lovers. This I have done to
give you and your noble Friends Life and Liberty,

‘in Hopes you will rescue your King and Country
‘from those who have advised your Deaths, my
‘Marriage, and the innumerable Woes Scotland
‘groans under.

‘Consider, Sir, my Crime is the Effect of your
‘Precepts; which always taught me to prefer my
‘Country's Weal to Life, Fame or Family. I will
‘not sue for Pardon, but Pity, tho' you condemn
‘me, I know your tender Nature will grant to your
‘once loved—now broken-hearted,

Katherine.

Sir Dav.
Brave noble Lady! exalted as Virtue
Or patriot Love can boast. She has indeed,
Acted like Huntley's Daughter! parted with
More than Life for her King and Country's Weal.

Hunt.
O just Heav'ns! what Machines thou hast made us!
Scarce a Moment since, and I shou'd have joy'd
T'have seen my Katherine hears'd deep in the Womb
Of Death's clayie Mansion. And now, Life, Fame,
And Scotland's Fate are not so dear to me
As my Katherine's unparalell'd Virtue.

Sir Dav.
Unparalell'd indeed, my Lord! poor Lady!
She is wedded to Misery without End.

Hunt.
O my Child! my Child!
Cou'd I but see you once! cou'd my dim Eyes
But gaze once more on that dear soft Image!
Cou'd I but live to ease my Katherine's Heart,
And tell her how I laud her manly Spirit,
I wou'd then forgive Fate—Death—every Thing—
But Sevez—that curst Priest—who hath undone us all.
But you say, Governor, I must not live
To see my Katherine; for that within this Hour
The Tyrant's Ax must sever Life from Woe.

Sir Dav.
That was my last Order from the Legate.

Hunt.
E're this the Thought of Death ne'er hurt my Mind;
But now 'tis irksome! I fain,—fain wou'd live
To see my Child again—but that cannot be—
O Scotland's Majesty, how art thou sunk!
When your royal Word is as far from Truth
As Heaven from Hell!
‘To deceive even my poor Katherine!
‘To betray her into Prostitution!
‘Sure Perfidy in Kings is the blackest Crime
‘Callous'd Infamy hath in all her Store!
But when Rome's mental Craft surrounds a Throne,
It is no Wonder Falshood and Tyranny,
Shove by Truth and Justice.—
But come, Governor, since we are to die,
Let's close the Scene, and end Life's Farce at once.

Sir Dav.
No, Lord Huntley,
Our bleeding Country hath fitter Service for you.
By me her Genius says, you must not dye.
My Lord, with jealous Eyes, and sore-griev'd Heart,
I've seen your Wrongs, and Scotland's unmatch'd Woes.
Affection to your House, which rais'd me first,
And to my dear, my native bleeding Land
Has made me watchful to preserve you both.

Hunt.
What mean you, Bruce!

Sir Dav.
This my injur'd Lord—
Many of the ancient Blood of Scotland
With heart-sore Feeling behold th'mighty Wrongs
Like to be entail'd upon Posterity,
Which they resolve most bravely to forefend,
Or else to bleed their last in the Attempt.

Hunt.
Ay, Bruce!—what! are there such Men in Scotland!

Sir Dav.
There are, my Lord; and since your Confinement
Have oft assembled in private Parley, how
To give you and Scotland Life and Freedom.
They last Night resolv'd, as they were commanded,
To attend the King in this Impostor's
Expedition. But not a Step farther
Than they see fit Time to shake off the Yoke.—
Their faithful Clans and Vassals they have rais'd,
Who are well martial'd both in Mind and Body,
And ready to revolt upon the Word.
Near Norham Castle they are assembled,
Whither the King's encamp'd—thither must you post
This Night—where you will meet such warm greeting
As Courage feels when rous'd by Tyranny and Oppression.

Hunt.
Scotland's guardian Genius—let me embrace thee.

[Embraces him.
Sir Dav.
This Castle, my Lord, I have well provided
As is that of Sterling, by Sir Archibald Grant,
And we will hold them out to Life's Extremity.
My Lord, you must away, Scotland's bleeding.

Hunt.
Away?—why, Bruce, I will outstrip the Winds,
And leave them Laggards in the hasty Course;
I'll go, like Brutus, at the Head of Rome's
Determin'd Son's, and restore poor, banish'd
Freedom to her Throne.
There shall she sit incorp'rate with our King,
'Till Time shall be no more.

[Exeunt.