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SCENE III.
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SCENE III.

The great hall of the castle, with a feast set out, and the company already placed at table, with servants and attendants in waiting, who fill the stage in every part: Argyll is seated at the head of the table, with Maclean on his left hand, and a chair left empty on his right.
Arg.
(to Maclean, &c.)
Most worthy chief, and honour'd guests and kinsmen,
I crave your pardon for this short delay:
One of our company is wanting still,
For whom we have reserved this empty place;
Nor will the chief of Mull unkindly take it,
That on our better hand this chair of honour
Is for a lady kept.

Omnes.
A lady!

[A general murmur of surprise is heard through the hall.
Arg.
Yes;
Who henceforth of this house the mistress is;
And were it palace of our Scottish king,
Would so deserve to be.

Omnes.
We give you joy, my lord.

[A confused murmur heard again.
Mac.
We give you joy, my lord: your age is bless'd.
We little thought, in these our funeral weeds,
A bridal feast to darken.

Lorne.
No, belike.
Many who don their coat at break of day,
Know not what shall befal them, therein girt,
Ere evening close.
[Assuming a gay tone.
The Earl hath set a step-dame o'er my head

505

To cow my pride—What think you, brave Maclean?
This world so fleeting is and full of change,
Some lose their wives, I trow, and others find them.
Bridegrooms and widowers do, side by side,
Their beakers quaff; and which of them at heart
Most glad or sorry is, the subtle fiend,
Who in men's hollow hearts his council holds,
He wotteth best, though each good man will swear,
His, lost or found, all other dames excell'd.

Arg.
Curb, Lorne, thy saucy tongue: Maclean himself
Shall judge if she—the lady I have found,
Equal in beauty her whom he hath lost.
In worth I'm sure she does. But hush! she comes.

[A great commotion through the hall amongst the attendants, &c.
Omnes.
It is the lady.

Arg.
(rising from his seat, and making signs to the attendants nearest the door).
Ho there! make room, and let the lady pass.

[The servants, &c. stand apart, ranging themselves on every side to let the lady pass; and enter Helen, magnificently dressed, with a deep white veil over her face; while Lorne, going forward to meet her, conducts her to her chair on Argyll 's right hand.
Arg.
(to the Campbells).
Now, fill a cup of welcome to our friends!

Loch.
(to Maclean).
Chieftain, forgettest thou to greet the lady?

Mac.
(turning to Argyll).
Nay, rather give, my lord, might I presume,
Our firstling cup to this fair lady's health,
The noble dame of this right princely house.
And though close veil'd she be, her beauty's lustre
I little question.
[Fills up a goblet, while Lochtarish, Benlora, &c. follow his example, and standing up, bow to the lady.
Your health, most noble dame!

[Helen, rising also, bows to him, and throws back her veil: the cup falls from his hands; all the company start up from table; screams and exclamations of surprise are heard from all corners of the hall, and confused commotion seen every where. Maclean, Lochtarish, and Glenfadden, stand appalled and motionless; but Benlora, looking fiercely round him, draws his sword.
Ben.
What! are we here like deer bay'd in a nook?
And think ye so to slay us, crafty foe?
No, by my faith! like such we will not fall,
Arms in our hands, though by a thousand foes
Encompass'd. Cruel, murderous, ruthless men,
Too good a warrant have you now to think us,
But cowards never!
Rouse ye, base Macleans!
And thou, whose subtlety around us thus
With wreckful skill these cursed toils hast wound,
Sinks thy base spirit now?

[To Lochtarish.
Arg.
(holding up his hand).
Be silence in the hall!
Macleans, ye are my guests; but if the feast
Delight you not, free leave ye have to quit it.
Lorne, see them all, with right due courtesy,
Safely protected to the castle gate.
[Turning to Maclean.
Here, other name than chieftain or Maclean
He may not give thee; but, without our walls,
If he should call thee murderer, traitor, coward,
Weapon to weapon, let your fierce contention
Be fairly held, and he, who first shall yield,
The liar be.—
Campbells! I charge you there,
Free passage for the chieftain and his train.

[Maclean and Lochtarish, &c., without speaking, quit the hall through the crowd of attendants, who divide, and form a line to let them pass. Helen, who had sunk down almost senseless upon her seat, seeing the hall cleared of the crowd, who go out after the Macleans, now starts up, and catches hold of Argyll with an imploring look of strong distress.
Helen.
O father! well I know foul are his crimes,
But what—O what, am I, that for my sake
This bloody strife should be?—O think, my lord!
He gave consent and sanction to my death,
But thereon could not look: and at your gate—
E'en on your threshold, must his life be ta'en?
For well I know the wrath of Lorne is deadly.
And gallant Lorne himself, if scath should be,—
O pity! pity!—O for pity stay them!

Arg.
Let go thy hold, weak woman: pity now!
Rosa, support her hence.

[Committing her to Rosa, who now comes forward, and tearing himself away.
Helen
(endeavouring to run after him, and catch hold of him again).
O be not stern! beneath the ocean rather
Would I had sunk to rest, than been the cause
Of horrid strife like this! O pity! pity!

[Exeunt, she running out after him distractedly.