University of Virginia Library

SCENE VIII.

Discovers the King seated, Angus, Attendants.
Enter Athol, Grime, introduced by Dunbar.
King.
It is not well—it is not well we meet
On Terms like these!—I should have found in Athol
A trusty Counsellor and steady Friend:
And better would it suit thy rev'rend Age,
Thy Station, Quality, and kindred Blood,
To hush ill-judging Clamour, and cement
Divided Factions to my Throne, again,
Than thus embroil the State.—

Athol.
My present Aim
Is to repair, not widen more, the Breach
That Discord made between us: This, my Liege,
Not harsh Reproaches, or severe Rebuke
Will e'er effectuate:—No—let us rather,
On Terms which equally become us both,
Our Int'rests re-unite.

King.
Hah!—re-unite!
By Heav'n, thy proud Demeanor more befits
A Sov'reign than a Subject!—Re-unite!—
How durst thou sever from thy Faith, old Lord!
And with an Helmet load that hoary Head
To wage rebellious War!

Athol.
The Sword of Athol
Was never drawn but to redress the Wrongs
His Country suffer'd.—

King.
Dar'st thou to my Face,
Impeach my Conduct, baffled as thou art,
Ungrateful Traitor?—Is it thus, thy Guilt
My Clemency implores?

Athol.
Not yet so low
Has Fate reduc'd us, that we need to crawl
Beneath your Footstool:—In our Camp remain
Ten thousand vig'rous Mountaineers, who long
Their Honours to retrieve.—

King
, rising hastily.
Swift, hie thee to them,
And lead thy fugitive Adherents back!—
Away.—Now by the mighty Soul of Bruce!
Thou shalt be met.—And if thy savage Clans
Abide us in the Plain, we soon will tread
Rebellion into Dust.—Why move ye not?
Conduct them to their Camp.—

Athol.
Forgive, my Prince,
If on my own Integrity of Heart
Too far presuming, I have gall'd the Wound
Too much inflam'd already.—Not with you,
But with your Measures ill-advis'd, I warr'd:
Your sacred Person, Family and Throne
My Purpose still rever'd.—

King.
O wretched Plea,
To which thy blasted Guilt must have Recourse!
Had thy Design been laudable, thy Tongue
With honest Freedom boldly should have spoke
Thy Discontent.—Ye live not in a Reign
Where Truth, by arbitrary Pow'r depress'd,
Dares not maintain her State.—I charge thee, say
What lawless Measures has my Pow'r pursu'd?

Athol.
I come, to mitigate your royal Wrath
With Sorrow and Submission; not to sum
The Motives which compell'd me to the Field.—

King.
I found your miserable State reduc'd
To Ruin and Despair:—Your Cities drench'd
In mutual Slaughter, desolate your Plains:
All Order banish'd, and all Arts decay'd:—
No Industry, save what with Hands impure
Distress'd the Commonwealth:—No Laws in Force,
To screen the Poor and check the guilty great;
While squalid Famine join'd her Sister Fiend
Devouring Pestilence, to curse the Scene!—
I came,—I toil'd,—reform'd,—redress'd the whole:
And lo, my Recompence!—But I relapse.—
What is your Suit?

Athol.
We sue (my Liege) for Peace.—

King.
Say, that my Lenity should grant your Prayer,
How, for the future, shall I rest assur'd
Of your Allegiance?

Athol.
Stuart shall be left
The Pledge of our Behaviour.—

King.
And your Arms
Ere Noon to Morrow, shall be yielded up.

Athol.
This too, shall be perform'd.—

King.
Then mark me Thane.—
Bacause the Loins, from whence my Father sprung,
On thee too Life bestow'd; enjoy the Gift.—
I pardon what is past.—In Peace consume
The Winter of thy Days.—But, if ye light
Th'extinguish'd Brand again, and brave my Throne
With new Commotions:—By th'eternal Power!
No future Guile, Submission, or Regard
Shall check my Indignation!—I will pour
My Vengeance in full Volley; and the Earth
Shall dread to yield you Succour or Resource!
Of this, no more.—Thy Kinsman shall remain
With us, an Hostage of thy promis'd Faith.—
So shall our Mercy with our Prudence join,
United brighten, and securely shine.