University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Benendine Castle.
Moore and Collier meeting.
Moore.
Welcome, my gallant friend, Sir Richard Collier,
I joy once more to greet you here at Benendine.
What news from Cumberland?—In one word, say
How our rash sortance there gives countenance,
For I am all impatience.

Col.
All well, my lord;
And to your timeous aid, and most prompt measures,
The land its safety owes.

Moore.
Have you already rid the west of all
The Scots that did infest it?

Col.
Some are gone home to keep their Lent, Sir Anthony—
But more remain in Cumberland.

Moore.
Remain!—How?—Where?
Why have you left the army then?—By heaven,
Had I been there, I'd not have left a man!
No, not a weather-beaten bare-kneed thief,
Should have turn'd up his brown and moor-burnt visage,
Or cock'd his bonnet to an Englishman.

Col.
Patience, good knight—restrain your indignation.
Those that remain in Cumberland will not
Do much mischief.

Moore.
Ha? What?

Col.
One half remain, 'tis true—

Moore.
Remain—

Col.
(Stopping him.)
But there is not
A Scot on this side Solway unsecured
In gaol or cemetery.

Moore.
Ha, ha, ha!—Pardon me, Collier.—
Give me thy hand, brave knight.
Where is our friend, the gallant Faucet?

Col.
I left him on the Border, actively
Viewing the forts, and doubling every post
At ford and causeway. In this business he
Has done most noble service.

Moore.
I know no knight
On English ground that may compare with Faucet.

Col.
He overcame and slew the bloody Gordon
With his own hand. He will be here anon.

Moore.
I'm sick till then. Myself have cleared the Tyne,
And forced the mighty Liddesdale to seek
For shelter in his fens and pathless woods.
I'll warn the king of our unween'd success,
For he is hasting north with all his power.
Give me description of these Galloway warriors;
'Tis said they lack the honour, and the might
Of the staunch Scottish borderer, but that
They fight with hellish ire.

Col.
Yes, when they're hungry they will fight for food;
And when driven desperate they will fight for life,—
Most sternly will they fight! but as for honour,
That's from the question—a most rare conjunction.
O, such a set of raggamuffin thieves
These eyes did never look on—By my troth,
'Tis a rare thought, honour in Galloway!

Moore.
(Laughing.)
Forgive me, Collier, for I needs must laugh
At you and these your western warriors.

Col.
Nay, by the Lord, Sir Anthony, when I
First saw the dogs approaching rank and file
I laugh'd outright, they looked so rascally.
And yet I felt a chillness at the sight
Of human creatures so unflesh'd and gnarl'd.
Seeing their kilted hams and matted locks,
Red-crested flap-caps, brows, and long peel'd jaws,
I deempt them beings of some horrid nature,
Who feasted on old sinewy goats and serpents,
And drank distilled mustard.—I did laugh,
But thought not once of honour! By my knighthood,
Had thought of Galloway and Honour cross'd me,
I had o'erlaugh'd the battle.

Moore.
Out on thee, knight,
This is too much. (Laughing.)
Farewell a while. I'm bound
To secret meeting, which I yearn and pine for.
(Aside.)
(Why should I not acquaint my brother knights
With that concerns me most? Certes I will.—
Sir Richard, knowest thou young Caroline,
The pride of all the Cecils?

Col.
Full well, my lord.

Moore.
She is mine,
My own true wedded spouse, whom I love more
Than all this world beside.

Col.
I give you joy with all my heart and soul,—
She's a most rare and precious jewel.

Moore.
'Tis yet a secret—give't no breath, unless
To our beloved Faucet.—Fare thee well.
(Exit Moore.)

Col.
Married to Caroline!—Allied to Cecil!
I little wot how this will suit the growth
Of our yet thriving scheme of mastership.
It is a mote—a most unseemly speck
In our fair prospect!—Would it were to do!
It should not be consummate else than by
Surmounting high obstruction.—But 'tis done,
And I must wish it thrive, for I do love him
With my whole heart.
Enter Faucet.
Ha! brother captain, do I see you here,
And that so early?

Fau.
I've posted all the way;
For that fierce earl, redoubted Liddesdale,
Is but retired to come again more dreadful.
The Merse and Tiviotdale are up in arms,
And all the dalesmen of the western border;
And from the shelter'd glades, and castled steeps
Of that impervious forest, where the Scotts
Hold ample sway, a thousand warriors come,
Whom fame reports as scarce controllable.
I fear we earn but sere and scanty laurels
From such staunch troopers.—Where is Moore?

Col.
Gone on a fond and foolish expedition.
O, Faucet, our high branching honours must
Soon be cut short and dodder'd to the trunk.

Fau.
How dost thou mean?—I swear it shall not be,
Ere thou go'st farther.—We're in such a way
That honours must accumulate and flow
Upon us still; the current now is such
I scarcely hold it changeable by man.

Col.
Sir Anthony, the very soul and stem
Of our o'erwhelming influence and power,
Guess what the fool hath done?

Fau.
I know not—speak, for thou amazest me.

Col.
Espoused fair Caroline Cecil.

Fau.
Collier!—Dost thou not jest?

Col.
Sooth, not a jot.
I tell you they are wedded; and his love
Seems past definement; all his feelings else
Are swallowed up in that.

Fau.
O fool! fool! Most incongruous fool!
Damn his precipitance!—If I had ween'd
Aught of such paralizing gross effect,
I had roused earth and hell in mix'd array
Against such fatal and abhorr'd conjunction.

Col.
If reconcilement 'twixt their houses should
From this ensue, then—

Fau.
If!—Let me not hear your ifs,
We'll have no ifs in such a case as this.
Collier, dost thou not see all we have done
And brought to bear with so much patient labour,
At peril of our honours and our lives,
Is by this vile collusion frustrated
And levell'd?—scatter'd to the winds at once?

Col.
Certes 'tis most unmeet?

Fau.
'Tis we have given this Moore the precedence,
Unknown even to himself; and now I tell thee,
If ever my name be syllabled between
Their houses in adjustment, all is lost.
And our deep pioneering policy will
Flash on the day at once.—It must not hold—
No, and it shall not hold—this cursed cement.
Men must not fall, and houses must not sink,
That women may be kiss'd.

Col.
Nought can be done.
He's now at Exeter to visit her,
In guise most secret, which besteads him well.

Fau.
But he shall ne'er go back—No, never—
This is the last time he must e'er behold
That witching polish'd play-thing.

Col.
Thy threat's unmeet;
Nought shalt thou do against our noble friend.

Fau.
Nought do!—I'll dizzy them!—Hell, but I will!
Yes, all this golden palace of delight
I'll countermine, and sapping its vile base,
Set it coranting on the eddying air
Till all its corbells and dight garniture
Sink shatter'd in the mud.—
Nought do!—I'll pluck the heart away
From this voluptuous and rank-feeding passion,
And give it to corruption, till it greet
The sicken'd sense with loathing.—See thou to it;
For if thou flinch, thou art the first that fall'st.—
I'll do it, or dishonour blast my name!