University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

A Field near the Rebels Camp.
Enter Katherine dress'd like her Husband Perkin, followed by her Maid Jane.
Cath.
I charge you by your Duty and Affection
Follow me no farther; enquire no more
Into my Design.

Jane.
Madam, I will not.
Let me but attend you in any Shape.—
I will purchase manly Garments, and travel
With you. For my Patroness,
Your dead Mother's Sake, let me share the Fate;
Be it Toil, or War, or Famine or Death,
It will be welcome, much more welcome,
Than cruel Banishment, from my dear Mistress.

Cath.
Jane, press me no farther—I must be obey'd,
Return to my Husband's, King Richard's Tent;
There wait my Presence, or my Messenger's.
And as you wish my Happiness, let not
Utterance, or Advertisement, escape you,
By any Means of this my unseemly
Immodest Garb.
Jane, this strange Request, give it not Complyance
As my Servant who obeys, but as my Friend
Who loves.

Jan.
It never shall escape me. But, dear Madam,
From the earliest Time, my Memory
Can trace, my Life hath been employ'd with you;
I've been bred up with you, not under you.
You have not been a Mistress to me, but
A tender Equal. Sorrow and Servitude
Were unknown in Gordon's hospitable House;
Menial Content was the lordly Owner's
Benevolent Joy; and the Servant's Pain
Anguish'd in the kind Master's humane Heart:
Then, Madam, be not angry,
My grateful Heart, bursts to think I never,—
Never shall again behold, from this Moment,
One of Gordon's Race—my impetuous Tears
Are masterless.—I cannot stop them—they
Will gush, in spite of all my Labour to prevent 'em.

Cath.
Jane, do not wound me thus.
There is a Cruelty in this Sorrow
My Nature cannot bear. The grateful Tears
You've shed upon my Hand, melt in my Heart:
Pity's tender Anguish is in each Drop.

Jane.
They shall offend no more; for tho' they ease
My throbing Heart, yet e're they grieve my Mistress,
They shall turn to liquid Flames, and Etna like,
Destroy their own Mansion—Madam, my Fears
Inform me I shall never see you more.
That in this strange, this English Land, I shall
For ever lose my Patroness.
Again I will not importune to attend,
Or bear you Company in this strange Design.
But shou'd you command me—or give me leave
To follow, and watch at Distance, lest some
Of those hot-blooded English—

Cath.
Fear not, Jane.
Virtue knows no Danger, it is it's own Shield;
It may be assaulted, but never can be hurt:
Therefore as you regard my Peace, or Love,
Expostulate no more; but straight leave me.

Jane.
My Patroness, farewel.
And may the watchful Eye of Providence guard and direct you!

Kath.
Farewel, my tender, honest-hearted Jane.
[They embrace, Exit Jane.
Poor Maid! she was ever gentle and loving;
And her tender Heart will grieve sorely,
When she shall hear that my Soul hath shook off
This galing Prison.
Now Scotland, Huntley, Daliel, Life, and Woe,
Farewell for ever. You dauntless English,
This Day, let th'aking Sighs, the mournful Tears
Of your Parents, Wives, and Children,—let your
Ravag'd Country, your Love of Liberty,
And whatever else your tenacious Souls
Hold dear,—rouse, and quicken in your honest Hearts,
This Day, that intrepid Courage, my dear Father
So oft hath prais'd in you. O let this Garb,
This Impostor Garb, allure your Vengeance
On me your supposed Invader; so shall
My Husband be the Cause of ending
The cureless Sorrow his detested Love begun.
(Trumpet)
Heark I am summon'd,—
Joyful Sound! O War! Death's fav'rite Harbinger,
If ever thou had'st partial Wrath against
A single Life! Or a first Victim in
Thy raging Onset, O then, for Pity's Sake,
Let me be the cull'd Sacrifice of this
Dreadful Day! let your remorseless Agents,
Sword, Pike, Dart, Javelin, and all your fell Crew,
Swarm, and cover me with distinguishing Wounds,
That when my disfigur'd Body is found,
Memory of Friend may find no Trace of Knowledge,
To shed a Tear o're the mangled Catherine.
Trumpets at a Distance.
Again I am summon'd ! and now,—Despair
And Danger be my Guides.

Exit.