 | The Earl of Douglas |  |
7
ACT I.
SCENE I.
A Room off the Parliament House in Edinburgh.Livingston
solus.
The Chancellor and I, once more are friends—
Can friendship stand which is not built on virtue?
No: say the moralists—then ours must fall;
The mutual trust, the corresponding passions,
Requir'd in friendship, center not in us.
He cannot bear a rival—I disdain
The thought of parity in place or pow'r.
Such are our views—Our factions nearly equal,
Divide the State—should Douglas join with either,
His weight would in a moment turn the scale.
He loves not me—To guard against the worst,
I think, the gravest casuist must allow
A just precaution—How the world mistakes!
To its misjudging eye the great seem happy:
What numbers envy me, and vainly think,
The place I hold would make them amply so—
They know thee not Ambition!—to indulge
Is but to whet thine appetite the more—
Happy the humble swain! who views his fields
With verdure clad; who sees his flocks encrease:
8
And only hopes for daily bread and peace.
The day in healthful exercise employ'd,
Adds charms to night; an undisturb'd repose
Refits him for the labours of to-morrow;
Refresh'd he rises with the early dawn,
And to his wonted labour chearly goes;
Th'encreasing light, the sun's enliv'ning ray,
Inspire his soul with gratitude and joy;
Happy, if the long labours of the year,
Supply the small demands that nature makes!—
How blest is such a state compar'd to mine!—
Why did the States confer these trusts on men,
Whose equal thirst for rule makes them unfit
To act in concert?—Could they see our hearts?—
Why rather did we then, why still assume
Of Virtue and Humility the semblance?—
All would be happy—That's the general aim
Of ev'ry action, and of each resolve—
O that my eye could pierce the cloud that hangs
With low'ring aspect on my future days!—
If in the book of fate success be wrote,
To see the page would be the balm of life;
Evil fore-seen, fore-known, were good, compar'd
To that which preys upon the anxious mind—
I've heard much of a woman, old and wife,
For knowledge of the future greatly fam'd—
Suppose I sent for her—no: 'twere a meanness,
And known, would lay me open to reproach—
Suppose, I like a servant went disguis'd—
Still that were mean—'twere folly, shameful weakness!
I'll think of it no more!—The Chancellor comes!—
9
SCENE II.
Crichton, Livingston.Crichton.
My good Lord Governour! methinks the sun
Shines brighter, now that we are friends again.
Livingston.
Long may the friendship last, which to my soul
Gives real joy, and makes the cares of state
Seem an amusement, rather than a toil.
Crichton.
Have you with due attention thought of that,
Last night propos'd, to hold us one forever?
Livingston.
I have my Lord. The world would blame the deed.
Crichton.
Perhaps it might: what then? so does it oft
Things worthy commendation. Till that house
Be humbled, and its dangerous pow'r abridg'd
The person of the King's not safe, the State secure,
Nor can we call our property our own.
For your concerns and mine, what need I say
How much we have to fear? These tho' but triffles,
When with the publick-good compar'd, deserve
Our second care.
Livingston.
I own they do, my Lord.
That he's a dangerous person to the State,
I freely grant; but his unrivall'd power,
Might turn what we intended as a remedy,
To rankest poison. True he loves us not:
10
Who right or wrong, are on the suffering side.
Would take his part against us; from his friends,
His powerful friends, what have we not to fear?
Crichton.
Nothing at all my Lord: bring down the head,
The body falls of course. Secure the chief,
And terror dissipates the slavish crowd.
Have you forgot the rancour which his father
Express'd to both of us? With what contempt
He look'd upon us from his height of greatness?
Livingston.
I never can, my Lord.
Crichton.
And will the son,
Of such a father, ever be our friend?
No, no my Lord, that pow'r you seem to dread,
Grows daily stronger, and will soon exert
Its utmost force to crush the State and us.
Admit there's danger—the determin'd mind,
Thinks not of danger, till the great attempt
It meditates be o'er. Our all's at stake—
What tho' the musty moralist may blame?
Success will always vindicate the means.
If we pursue the plan I pointed out,
My head shall answer for the wish'd success!
Livingston.
Give me your hand, my Lord! at all events
I follow where you lead.
Crichton.
Henceforth my Lord,
Our friends, our foes, our interests are the same.
11
Usher.
My lords, the States in full convention wait
Your entry to the house.
Livingston.
'Tis well, we come.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The Parliament.Livingston, Crichton, Angus, &c.
Livingston.
My lords, it gives me pain to hint the cause
Of our assembling here; the fell disease
That preys upon the vitals of the State,
Demands an instant cure; too long delay'd,
The spreading evil baffles human skill.
The laws contemn'd, authority despis'd,
Wild Anarchy with hasty step comes on.
Oppression, like a hideous monster, stalks
Relentless through the land. Hard on his heels,
Unpitying Murder reeks with human gore,
Nor fears, nor shuns the sacred light of heav'n.
Pale Misery and weeping Sorrow plead,
They cannot plead in vain—The helpless poor
Have no resource, my lords, but heav'n and you.
Alas! that man, whose debt to social love
Can never be repaid, so soon forgets
How much he owes, and what he daily needs:
12
And taught by nature, cries aloud for pity;
Were this deny'd, the noble plant must feel
The bitter frosts of life, and quickly die.
Rear'd by the care of others, up it shoots
To youth, to manhood, the supporting hand
Mean while declining, soon requires the aid
It kindly lent, which horrible to tell!
Is frequently refus'd—Ingrateful man!
To moralize is vain—some sharper remedy
Must be apply'd to the distemper'd State;
But how, or where begin, that is the question?
A question which deserves the last regard.
To me my lords, it seems as clear as noon,
Those instruments of mischief are set on
By some, who envious of their country's peace,
Desire to plunge it in intestine broils;
By some, whose eminence and pow'r give hopes
Of impious protection from the laws.
But who are these?—This is a straitning question,
And few perhaps, will chuse to answer it.
For me I know not—Some indeed have said,
“The young Lord Douglas, with the court disgusted,
“Vain of excessive pow'r, and green in years,
“Protects those miscreants, and contemns the laws.
“The violation of each social duty,
“Connives at in his followers, and presumes
“None dare to call amiss what he approves.”
Perhaps the noble youth, with gentle hand,
And pitying eye, corrects the faults of some;
Perhaps, beset with flatt'rers, he presumes
Too much upon his pow'r, and screens a few,
13
But that a princely youth, to virtue train'd,
Would harbour thieves, and murderers, and robbers,
Believe who list, no credence I can give it.
Tho' this is my opinion, I presume not
To say the charge is absolutely false.
In times like these, the strangest things fall out;
And men succeed not to their fathers virtues.
I hope the noble Lord can clear himself;
But were he guilty, should he even refuse
To stand the test of law; would it be prudent
To make a publick breach with him? His pow'r,
The numbers he can raise, his tow'ring spirit
Impatient of restraint, might throw the State
In terrible convulsions. Let me then
Humbly propose, a letter from the States
Be sent Lord Douglas, to intreat his aid,
His personal attendance, and advice.
Lest some about him should with ill design
Instil distrust, and fill with doubts and fears
His generous mind, I think, the States should give
Security to overlook the slips
The warmth of youthful blood may have occasion'd.
Thus far, my lords—
Crichton.
The motion I do second,
As equitable in itself, and tending
So greatly to the honour of the State.
For if the noble Lord be innocent,
As possibly he may, by this the world
Will be convinc'd, we wish to find him so.
14
Some trivial deviations from his duty,
The moderation of the States may gain him
To love of virtue, and the publick-good.
This just respect the publick owes his house,
Whose great exploits have oft struck envy dumb,
Spread terror in the hearts of Scotland's foes,
And made their chiefs, inglorious quit the field.
When Edward's hostile arms threw down the bounds
Of antient right, and trampled on our laws;
When broke by factions, and by numbers aw'd,
Our fathers recogniz'd his galling yoke;
Fair Liberty, with mien dejected, stood
To Douglas' eye reveal'd—he greatly rose,
And singly dar'd to vindicate her claim.
Stript of his wide domains, torn from his friends,
Coop'd in the narrow limits of a jail;
Supported by the Liberty he lov'd,
Nor chains, nor death, could move the hero's soul!
Methinks I see the God-like man stretch'd out
Upon the narrow couch, lift up his head,
Collect the small remains of life, and dart
To heav'n his last kind wish for Scotland's peace;
Smile in the hope, his wish acceptance found,
Then greatly die! undaunted, unsubdu'd!
That the Chancellor does not here pay a mere compliment to the family of Douglas, the reader may be satisfied, by turning to the first volume of Rapin's History of England, the folio edition, page, 375[OMITTED] where, narrating the transactions of the year 1296, he tells us, that after Edward the first had reduced all Scotland to his obedience, he summoned the whole nobility and officers of the kingdom to assemble at Berwick, and swear fealty to him. The author adds, “Among the Scotish nobles. William Douglas we [OMITTED] the only person, that could never resolve to swear to a prince, who had no right to Scotland, but what force gave him. This refusal drew on him the indignation of Edward, who commanding him to be conducted to England, kept him in close confinement, where he ended his days, without his misfortunes being ever able to bring him to acknowledge Edward for his sovereign.”
Livingston.
Just is the praise, tho' great, you have bestow'd
On the illustrious chief—To what we mov'd
Do any here object?—My Lord of Angus?—
Angus.
The motion has my hearty approbation.
15
Livingston.
Since all agree, my lords, I humbly move,
This letter may be sent before the house
Proceeds to other business. If the terms
I hinted, be your mind, whom you appoint,
May write my Lord of Douglas, in your name.
Crichton.
On you my Lord, I humbly think, the States
Will put the trouble.
Angus.
None so fit my Lord.
(a pause)
Livingston.
This day, my lords, the letter shall be sent;
Mean time, the parliament may be adjourn'd.
[Exeunt.
This William, was the 7th Lord of Douglas, and the father of good sir James. Vid. Hume's History of the Houses of Douglas and Angus. Edition in 12.m o Vol. 1st. page. 30.
The End of the first ACT.
| The Earl of Douglas | |