Sir Marmaduke Maxwell, A Dramatic Poem The Maid of Galloway; The Legend of Richard Faulder; and Twenty Scottish Songs: By Allan Cunningham |
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| IV. | SCENE IV. |
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 | Sir Marmaduke Maxwell, A Dramatic Poem |  |
SCENE IV.
Cumlongan Wood.Enter Sir John Gourlay.
Sir J.
So here's the roost of this same song-bird. Soft!
Here comes one of her pages.
Enter Mary Douglas, disguised.
Here comes one of her pages.
There 's no lady
But has a shadow such as this, a thing
To fan her bosom in the sun—to seek
Out banks of violets for her—shaded nooks
Floor'd and roof'd o'er with woodbine, where she may
Be sweetest kiss'd in sleep. Now stay, stay, youth;
Thou cool'st thy young blood late.
But has a shadow such as this, a thing
To fan her bosom in the sun—to seek
Out banks of violets for her—shaded nooks
Floor'd and roof'd o'er with woodbine, where she may
Be sweetest kiss'd in sleep. Now stay, stay, youth;
Thou cool'st thy young blood late.
Mary Douglas.
An orphan poor,
Outcast from those I love, I sorrowing seek
Kind service, and kind hearts.
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Thou 'st found them both.
So go with me. What dost thou gaze at, shake at
Even as an aspen leaf?
Mary Douglas.
Sir, I am seeking
A face to please my fancy; I'm no servant
To every man that whistles, and cries Come.
Enter Sir Marmaduke Maxwell.
I am not corn for every crow to peck;
And so, good night.
Sir John.
In faith, proud stripling, no;
You go with me? I'll find thee prettier work
Than curling locks for a lascivious maiden;
Come! else my hand shall teach thy feet obedience:—
And thou so shakest and sobb'st too? By my faith,
My pretty one, you are not what you seem.
Mary D.
O! let me go. Oh! kind sir, let me go;
If e'er you parted with one you loved dear,
E'er won the blessing of a gentle heart,
E'er wet your cheeks at other's deep distress,
E'er won heaven's smile by one bright deed of mercy,
E'er spared the milky head of reverend age,
The babe with mother's milk between its lips,
The mother, when her white hands she held up
Against the lifted steel,—spare—let me go.
Sir Marmaduke.
(Aside.)
This moves not him. This is a goodly youth,
Free of his speech, and touching in his words;
He has won my heart already—let me hear.
Sir John.
Thou goest on some suspicious errand—so
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Thy lady's heels, for she doth sleep to-night
In the arms of Halbert Comyne. Come, now, come;
Hast thou some love pledge in thy bosom, come—
Faith I shall find it out.
(Seizes her.)
Sir Marmaduke.
Sir! stay your hand:
This youth should be the chooser, not the chosen.
Though he's a sun-burnt stripling, sir, a thing
That can outweep a girl—pray let him go;
Free limbs endure no bondage.
Sir John.
Prating sheep-boy,
Darest thou talk so to me? To thy flocks—begone—
And tell thy grandame that John Gourlay smote thee
With the flat side of his sword.
(Strikes him.)
Sir Marmaduke.
Sir, use the edge on 't!
For by the rood and eagle they do need
Courage, and fence, who strike one of my name.
Sir John.
I've ta'en the wild hawk for the hooded crow.
(Exeunt Fighting.)
| Sir Marmaduke Maxwell, A Dramatic Poem | |