University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Edinburgh-Castle.
Crichton, Livingston. In close conference.
Crichton.
How deep are his designs! The artful youth,
Talks much of virtue; with a smiling brow,
And soft engaging manner, stoops to hear
The plaints of all about him; mildly checks
The guilty, and affects to feel the pain
Of the distress'd—Insuperable pride,
Restrain'd by policy, thus eggs him on
To acts of seeming greatness—Why, my Lord?
But to supplant his Sovereign in the love
And just respect, which nature and the laws
Have mark'd his own.

Livingston.
But if in durance kept,
They cannot hurt the State—Thus far I think,
That popular pretence the publick good,
May bear us out; but to attempt his life,
His friend's, his brother's too, to me, my Lord,
Seems full of danger.

Crichton.
Is the danger less
To us, and to the State, while Douglas lives?
As heav'n hath put them in our hand, my Lord,
Their fate should be the same—All are the foes
Of us and of the State.

Livingston.
Lord David's youth—

Crichton.
The prudent gard'ner crops the noxious weed,
Before it blows. This great revenge will cow
The heart of faction: meaner foes will dread
To lift their tongue against us.

Livingston.
Still my Lord,
The world will think their doom severe, their friends
Will raise the publick cry—The States alarm'd,
May judge it prudent to abridge our pow'r.

Crichton.
If ev'ry danger possible be fear'd,
Adieu to action! like a frozen plant
We stand and perish—They or we must fall!

Livingston.
Theirs be the lot! I plead their cause no more.

Crichton.
Then we're agreed my Lord—The try'd Monteith
Must instantly be call'd—A trusty guard
Plac'd at the gate—A warrant must be wrote,
Sign'd, seal'd, and sent the Captain of the guard—
Lord Douglas with his brother, and their friend,
Now make the circuit of the castle walls,
Ere they return, these orders must be given.
[Exit Crichton.

Manet Livingston.
How Angus fir'd when I gave distant hints
Of what we had in view—My courage fell,
And but for Kirkton's hint, “Beware a Douglas”
Had stood a coward confest—From Abercorn,
Slow and inactive, nothing's to be fear'd—
Young Abercorn, Angus, and Dalkeith,
May storm a little—Be it so—Our pow'r,
That blest pretence the publick-good, at last
Must carry all before them—Still I feel
The woman in my heart—Conscience no more!—
The thought that favours Douglas is a lie!

[Exit.