University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The cross of Glasgow. A great crowd of people are discovered, and bells heard tolling occasionally from the neighbouring churches.
1st crowd.
Ah! woe is me! so bonnie and so young!
Of all that death hath ta'en in this fell ravage,
None hath he ta'en that seem'd so ill to suit
The coffin and the mould. Ah! woe is me!

2d crowd.
Ay, neighbour, she was one mark'd from them all.
Though we have many fair and gracious ladies,
We had not one who could be pair'd with her:
The bonniest lass in all the west of Scotland.

1st crowd.
Ay, thou mayst say, the bonniest and the best.

3d crowd.
Nay, softly, David! for the point of goodness,
That is a matter, on her burial day,
We may not question; yet, if it be true—

1st crowd.
If it be true! It is not: nought is true
That can throw speck or spot upon her virtue.

1st crowd woman
(to 1st crowd).
Be not so angry, man; my husband means
Against her maiden virtue no reproach,
E'en if her faith was papishly inclined.

1st crowd.
She was no Papish; I'll take oath upon it.
The cloven foot of Satan in my shoe
Is at this point of time as surely buckled,
As that she was aught but a pure believer—
A good and godly lady.

1st crowd woman.
That gentleman, so brave and soldierly,
Who lately has return'd from foreign wars,
Is a rank Romanist, and has been oft
Received by her. But, Lord preserve us all!
We, by God's grace, may sit by Satan's side,—
Ay, on the self-same settle, yet the while,
Be ne'er one whit the worse.

3d crowd.
And I should guess—

2d crowd.
Hist, hist! the funeral's coming:
I hear the heavy wheels, and o'er the top
Of all those cluster'd heads I see the feathers,—
The snow-white feathers of the high-coped hearse
Move slowly. Woe the day! oh, woe the day!
How changed her state! She was on milk-white steed
Mounted right gallantly, with cap and plume,
When I beheld her last.

Voice
(without).
Make way, good folks, and let the ladies pass.

2d crowd
(to him without).
None can pass here on horseback.

Voice
(without).
It is the Provost's family: make way.

2d crowd
(as before).
An 'twere the king's, they must dismount, I trow,
Or wait till the procession be gone by.

Enter Alice, Marian, and Claude.
Claude
(to crowd).
What makes so great a concourse; and those bells
To toll so dismally? Whose funeral
Are ye convened to see?

1st crowd.
Ah, sir! the fairest lady of the place.
I warrant you have seen her many a time;
They call'd her Emma Graham.

Claude.
It cannot be! What didst thou call her? Speak;
Repeat her name.

1st crowd.
Her name is Emma Graham; her father is—

Claude.
No more! no more! too well I comprehend it.
And death hath dealt his blow on what was life's
Completest, dearest, best.

[Covers his face with his cloak.
Marian
(turning to Alice, and supporting her).
Dear Alice, thou art pale, and faint, and ill;
Lean upon me, my friend.

Alice.
Think not of me: poor Claude! my heart-struck brother!
His wound is deep and sudden: for this stroke
I was prepared.

Voices
(without).
Stand back; stand closer: it is now at hand.

[A funeral procession crosses the stage: the mourners following the hearse on foot.
1st crowd.
Ah! never corse was follow'd to the grave
With deeper sorrow!

1st crowd woman.
Ay, tears are following tears down manly cheeks,
As gouts fall in Saint Mungo's dripping aisle,
Near which the grave is dug that shall receive her.

1st crowd.
That is her grey-hair'd father, so bow'd down;
And those her brothers walking by his side.

2d crowd.
Then all the kindred walking, two and two.

3d crowd.
But who is he that follows after all,
In mourner's cloak so muffled to the eyes?
He walks alone, not mated like the rest;
And yet, methinks, his gait and motion say
The greatest weight of grief falls to his share.

Claude.
God knows who hath the greatest share! Not he.

[Pushing eagerly through the crowd.
Alice.
Where goest thou, Claude?

[Endeavouring to hold him.
Claude.
Prevent me not. Shall mourning weeds alone
Have privilege, and sorrow be debarr'd.

[Exit hastily after the funeral, and the crowd disperses different ways, Alice, Marian, and their servants alone occupying the front of the stage.
Marian.
Dear Alice! how thou tremblest every limb,
As in an ague fit!

Alice.
It was no dream;
It was no strong delusion of the fancy.

Marian.
This is indeed an awful confirmation.
But stay no longer here: go to thy home;
Thou hast great need of rest.

Alice.
I have more need,
Within my closet, on my bended knees,
To pray for mercy on my sinful self,
And those to me most dear,—poor sinners all.
This is a sad and awful visitation.

Marian.
But didst thou not expect to find it so?
I thought thou wast prepared.

Alice.
I thought so too;
But certainty makes previous expectation
Seem, by comparison, a state of hope.

Marian.
We now are free to hold upon our way.
Let us proceed: come on with me, dear Alice!

[Exeunt.