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| 4. | Scene IV |
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 | The unpublished plays of Thomas Holley Chivers |  |
Scene IV
(Another part of the field. Enter Sir Joshua Macdonald wounded, leaning on Fernando 's arm.)Page
(Dropping the letter)
Macdonald wounded? Dying? Speak, my friend!
131
Ay, wounded but not dead.
Page
Then rise again
And let us seek our Prince.
Macdonald
No, let me die.
I would not live to see my country's fall!
Page
Ay, rise; the enemy is near us now.
Macdonald
Had I an eagle's wings I would not fly.
Page
Then lean upon Fernando's arm; though weak
Yet will it help to bear you from the field.
(As he attempts to rise, he falls again.)
Oh, noble chieftain, thou art gone, too late!
Macdonald
Take back my dying words—go to my Prince,
Tell him that my daughter is his wife.
Page
As thy last dying wish, it shall be done.
How art thou now, brave friend?
132
I am no more. (Dies.)
Page
Oh God, my noble friend is dead. Farewell!
(Enter Boisdale picking up the letter.)
Boisdale
What have we here? A letter! Yes, a dead
Man and a Page. This comes of thy great lord.
Page
(Approaching him)
Give me that letter—it is mine!
Boisdale
'Tis thine?
How came it on the ground?
Page
I dropt it there.
Do give it to me!
Boisdale
Who gave it to you? The king?
It goes to Ormaclade. I see it does.
It is directed to his amorous queen.
Then as the amorous Wind deflowers the Rose,
So will I rifle it of all its sweets.
Page
Oh, do not break the seal—I beg you not!
133
What was his charge concerning it? Speak quick!
Page
Oh, do not break the seal!
Boisdale
Was that his charge?
Then will I break it, as I will his heart.
Page
Oh, do not! for a thousand worlds I would
Not have you break that seal!
Boisdale
Then tell me all.
Where is thy king? Speak, or the letter flies.
Page
Nay, give it me.
Boisdale
Will not the contents tell?
Speak, or it flies! (He breaks open the letter and reads.)
The sealing of thy lips
And not my hands, did break the seal. Away!
Go, bear it to thy mistress—all is right. (Returns the letter.)
Page
For this rash act thy blood shall drench the earth!
134
Be not too rash or thine shall flow. You know
You called me traitor once.
Page
Ay, traitor thrice!
A double villian! earth has not thy match,
No, nor the depths of Hell. All honest men
Shall hate the name of one named after thee,
And evil men grow jealous of thy name,
Because thou art above all emulation!
Boisdale
Peace, peace, young boy!
Page
As you have broken this—
So is the seal upon my lips; now read
The contents of my soul!
Boisdale
Show not thy pearls,
Or if you will, but do it with a smile.
Page
Within the casket of my heart there lies
A truth, which couldst thou see, would strike thee blind!
Boisdale
It is so rare I only hear it when
135
Page
You are
No wit.
Boisdale
I do not pass for one.
Page
You are
A base, abandoned wretch! You are no man!
A serpent who has fangs, but fears to bite!
Boisdale
My poison then will do no harm.
Page
That is
No virtue. Good is negatived in you
By fear of doing evil. Good, without
Volition, is no good at all. An act,
To be a good one, must be done by one
Who does it for the sake of good. When did
You this?
Boisdale
Look there upon the ground. See what
Your king has done. Talk not of goodness now!
136
What has he done?
Boisdale
Destroyed that good old man.
Page
Would he were here to hear that lie! Base fiend!
The last word that he spoke was of the king.
Nay, ask thy wretched soul—let conscience tell
Who is the murderer! Thy cheeks are pale!
It was thy very hand that took his life!
Boisdale
That letter is an antidote for thine.
Page
You dare not look me in the face.
Boisdale
Away!
And when thy heraldry is over, we
Shall meet again!
Page
No, never let me
See thy face again!
Boisdale
At Boradale we all
Shall meet again, where each shall know his doom.
(Exeunt
137
Sir Ronald
Where is my lord?
Lochiel
Fled—gone to Boradale.
Sir Ronald
Then let us hence. What have we here? Ye gods!
It is the temple of the mightiest soul
That ever lived in man.
Lochiel
Alas, what is
This world, if sacriligious hands shall rob
A temple of such heavenly workmanship,
Of such a soul?
Sir Ronald
It is an object world!
His thoughts were so sublime they were like stars
Above the midnight of men's minds, on which
They gazed with emulation, as of old,
The Chaldean Shepherds watched the stars with joy
And admiration. Look how low he lies!
See where the golden bowl was broken, how
The wine of life wastes on the abject earth.
It looks up in the peaceful face of Heaven,
138
Lochiel
Come, let
Us lay him in the dark cold—he rests.
Sir Ronald
And as the face of the embowered lake
Reflects the foliage on its verdant banks,
So shall the mirror of our deeds today,
Shew forth our actions to the latest time.
(Exeunt, bearing the body out.)
| The unpublished plays of Thomas Holley Chivers | |