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| 5. | Scene V |
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 | The unpublished plays of Thomas Holley Chivers |  |
Scene V
(Ormaclade. A magnificent apartment in Macdonald's palace. Flora is seated on a sofa binding a bouquet of flowers. Enter Boisdale seizing her by the arm.)Boisdale
Now Princess, thou art mine!
Flora
(Rising indignantly.)
What do you mean?
Let go my arm?
Boisdale
Where is thy Page?
Flora
I know
Not where he is. Why ask me that?
139
You have
Not heard the news?
Flora
What news?
Boisdale
Most direful news.
The king has fled!
Flora
Fled where?
Boisdale
To Boradale.
He was obliged to fly—his troops are slain.
Flora
Oh, joyless fate! Where is my father?
Boisdale
Dead!
Flora
My father dead! my father slain! Oh, God!
Then let me die! Who slew my father? You?
Boisdale
It is not known. You cannot now be queen.
His cousin of Cumberland will wear the crown.
140
Oh, joyless fate! There is no comfort now.
Boisdale
Look on the face of him who loves you still.
Oh, beauteous island in the Sea of Life!
Though darker be the waves around thee cast,
Yet will the sunshine of my former love,
Mantle thy bosom with the spring of joy!
There on thy beauteous bosom girt by waves
Of sorrow—let me lean my pensive head.
Flora
What would you have me do?
Boisdale
Be mine—forget
The past—look on me as thy lord—thy king—
Ay, wed thine equal—wed with him whom Heaven
Designed for thee.
Flora
Then show me to the king.
Boisdale
No, he is gone. Come, fly with me to some
Sweet island where we will be king and queen.
Where we will reign, the king and queen!
With you it would be peopled with the world.
141
Ah, Boisdale, have you not spoken false?
Boisdale
In what, my love?
Flora
Where is my father?
Boisdale
Dead!
Flora
The king?
Boisdale
In Hell, I hope.
Flora
Then, fly from me.
Boisdale
Be calm, my love.
Flora
My sorrows make me calm.
Boisdale
Then, will you not be mine?
Flora
No, Boisdale,
I tell thee, never!
142
Nay, relent! You know
I love you—love you as my life.
Flora
Away!
Boisdale
Will you live single?
Flora
Die the maid I am,
Or Stuart's wife.
Boisdale
But he is gone.
Flora
Then I
Will wed his memory.
Boisdale
Look down, ye gods!
And tell me from your starry thrones, what doom
Is hanging on me now?
Flora
The doom of death!
Boisdale
You echo but the voice of mine own soul.
For, rather now than live this living death,
143
And, drinking with the king thy health, go down
With him the bloody path to Hell! Farewell!
Flora
Death spurs the bloodless sides of his pale horse,
Impatient for thy life.
Boisdale
The king! the king!
(Exeunt severally.)
| The unpublished plays of Thomas Holley Chivers | |