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| 2. | Scene II |
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 | The unpublished plays of Thomas Holley Chivers |  |
Scene II
(The residence of Cameron of Fassafern. Enter Lochiel to Boisdale.)Boisdale
Good morning, Lochiel! for the morn is good,
Although the times are bad. What is the news?
Lochiel
The King is here.
Boisdale
He is. Where go you now?
44
To seek my Prince.
Boisdale
Well, you had better stay.
Seek not the Prince, let him return to France.
Lochiel
For this he should be sought. Why urge me thus?
Boisdale
I urge you, knowing that his cause is vain.
Lochiel
I would persuade him to return to France.
Boisdale
But he will not return.
Lochiel
How know you this?
Boisdale
I know it by my knowledge of the man.
Lochiel
Saw you the scorn that sat enthroned upon
His florid lips?
Boisdale
I saw his scorn—no more of that.
Lochiel
I never shall forget his looks.
45
Nor I.
Lochiel
Decision sat enthroned upon his brow
In awful dignity. Upon his lips
A writhing scorn triumphant played, as if
In concert with an agony within,
That restless grew for something to devour.
He is the shadow of some mighty god—
Nay, if the very gods were on the earth,
They would not be more like themselves, than is
This royal Charles.
Boisdale
Most noble trumpeter!
You are no fit companion for this god.
Lochiel
What mean you by this taunt?
Boisdale
I mean, you are
No fit companion for a god.
Lochiel
Your praise
Tastes bitter as 'tis sweet—your honey much
Like gall—your love like hate.
46
I hate him? Yes—
But saw you that young god he has with him?
Lochiel
The Child of Song?
Boisdale
The Child of Hell!
Lochiel
This Page?
Boisdale
Ay—Page! He is a Page—a twelve mo. page—
A diamond cheap Edition bound in calf!
An excellent impudence!
Lochiel
The type is small,
Although you seem to read it well.
Boisdale
And such
A Page I hope never to read again.
Lochiel
Why? Did he hurt your eyes?
Boisdale
He was too small—
I scarcely saw the print!
47
And yet it seems
He left the print.
Boisdale
Of what?
Lochiel
Not of his sword,
My lord! but of his Page.
Boisdale
He is too small
For my perusal. Printed thus, he is
A bijou Almanac in which his lord
May read his own eclipse!
Lochiel
When next you read
This Page, put on your spectacles.
Boisdale
I will.
And magnifying glasses they shall be.
Lochiel
You cannot magnify his worth—he fills
The boundless heaven of admiration
Boisdale
Ay!
48
As many other men.
Lochiel
You hate the king,
And hating him, you hate the Page. Your hate
For one should not affect the other's worth.
Boisdale
I hate the Page? He is beneath my hate!
Lochiel
Why does his praise taste bitter to thy tongue?
Boisdale
Because he is a crab—tastes sour in spite
Of me.
Lochiel
But then the King is not a crab—
Why does he taste so bitter to thy tongue?
Boisdale
Because his heart is rotten to the core.
Lochiel
But then he tastes most sweet to Flora's lips.
Boisdale
To Flora's lips! No, by God's Heavens! were she
To taste such fruit, her soul would sink as far
From its original brightness, as did first
49
Lochiel
And, like that mother, though she knew she'd die,
Yet would she eat the fruit.
Boisdale
No, by the gods!
Until the Serpent tempted her—then would
She fall as low as Hell's from Heaven!
Lochiel
Not by
The King.
Boisdale
Ay, King! of what?
Lochiel
Of thee—of me.
Boisdale
He may be King of thee—but not of me!
Lochiel
Should I report to him what I have heard,
You would not live an hour!
Boisdale
I have no life!
My lips went with my honor! Yes, my life
Is gone! Spurned by a boy—scorned by the king—
50
Lochiel
You are in love?
Boisdale
I love to hate thy King!
Lochiel
Art jealous, man?
Boisdale
If Royalty could win her heart, she might
Be won.
Lochiel
If Royalty could win her heart,
The sooner won the better.
Boisdale
He might win
Her fancy—not her heart.
Lochiel
Nay, if she loved
No Royalty could win her heart.
Boisdale
Well, well,
I know you better than you do yourself—
Seek not the King.
51
Why so?
Boisdale
You love the king?
Lochiel
With all my heart!
Boisdale
Where is thy love for me?
Lochiel
Love is immortal, simple, pure, divine;
And, to divide is not to take away.
Boisdale
Well, well, tomorrow we shall meet again.
Lochiel
Farewell!
(Exit.)
Boisdale
He called me traitor—traitor to his King,
And all because I would not bow to him!
No, Boisdale will never bow to him—
Not while Eternity shall roll its sounds!
Greatness does not depend upon the things
Eternal—chance, or fortune, wealth, or fame;
But builds its temple in the mighty soul—
Looks on the towering front of giant Time
52
(Exit.)
| The unpublished plays of Thomas Holley Chivers | |