University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

A Hall in the Castle.
Chancellor
solus.
Their success, whom I hate, burns up my vitals.
All hell's within me.—Livingston and I,
Each 'gainst the other, sought the father's aid;
Who proud reply'd, “The sooner two such knaves
Should be destroy'd, the better for the land,
And honest men.”—That pride shall slay his sons.
The letters Douglas wrote, I kept at Crichton;
Mine, in his name, must have to madness fir'd
The Regent: since this Douglas is too generous
To ruin him; he must this Douglas ruin:
Then fall himself with more to raise my son.

Enter Livingston the Regent.
My lord, that friendship to our hate succeeds,
I count the greatest blessing life could yield.

Chancellor
aside.
Our hate has only borrowed friendship's veil:
Could I salute thee with a breath as fatal
As that of Basilisk's, or my embrace
Blast thee like light'ning's flash; they should be hearty.

[They embrace and salute.
Chancellor
to the Regent weeping.
My thoughts, too big for speech, choke up its passage.
How could I quarrel with so great, so good,
So wise a man! The support of the state!—
Forgive me, Heav'n;—and good your grace forgive me.

Livingston.
Travelling, I from the wise of ev'ry clime;
Reading, from annals of all ages; learn'd,
That concord oft exalts the lowest states,
And discord soon the highest lays in dust.
While friends, we wealth enjoy'd and lordly power;
Since foes, our wealth decays, our power is blasted:
Rude Insolence authority now spurns;
And Anarchy stalks hideous thro' the land.
Unite we then t'enforce the slighted laws,
Depress the proud, and make the bold obey.

Chancellor.
O grac'd with all persuasion's winning force!
Thine eloquence at pleasure sways my soul.
True are thy words! Our ruin all desire;
Us Commons hate; and us the Lords despise.

Livingston.
Them I despise. I'll raise the royal power
So high, that proudest peers shall humbly bend
Before the lowest officer of court.

Chancellor.
Curse on his pride, he thinks he props the skies;
[Aside.
I know your grace's zeal, to raise our Prince
To god-like sway; but arduous is the task:
The peers are mighty, and disdain to serve;
And on their head the Douglasses will shine.
That clan is num'rous, daring, true, and steady;
Their chief young, vig'rous, lib'ral, brave, and popular,
Most royal-like in state, and high behaviour;
Creating knights, and scatt'ring wealth and honours.

Livingston.
Audacious stripling! all his father's pride
To his was mild humility.—

Chancellor.
Pray, hear me.
This morning, his ambassador, Lord Fleming,
Brought a seal'd treaty from the Gallic monarch
For mutual aid: the like from Ross and Crawford,
His uncle's son presents: to night these Lords
With all the peers beyond the Forth will meet
Touraine's great duke,

Livingston.
Touraine!

Chancellor.
And Longueville!
Marshal of France, with all the powers and honours
His sires enjoy'd, and all their boundless rev'nues.

Livingston.
'Tis Fleming's daring work; the heads are mighty:
Ross in the north reigns king, and o'er the isles;
All Fife and Perthshire Crawford sways at will;
The south and west attend Lord Douglas' call,

Chancellor.
The grandeur of that lofty house you know;
His strong allies; the cheiftains of the name:
His strengths, and wide domains; his daring leagues
With kings abroad, and king-like Lords at home.
His court I view'd; I mingled with his train,
Which swells in thousands for his daily state.
Squires, knights, and lords crouding from ev'ry wind,
Conducted him to town. Here splendid rode
The ever famous Keiths; there mighty Humes;
The graceful Hepburns, and the noble Hays;
The valiant Seton, and the worthy Ker;
The bold Dunbar, with gen'rous Ramsay came;
The potent Scot, and Graham of high descent.

Livingston.
Heav'ns! what a list of peers!—t'attend a traitor.

Chancellor.
Well, I shall pass the flower of Annandale,
By Johnston led, and those that drink the Nith
With Maxwell bold, Montgom'ry, Cunningham,
And Boyd, with westland Lords: young Kennedy,
The cousin of our King: The Somervile
And Hamilton, with Clydesdale's gallant chiefs.
The brave Carmichael bore the spear he broke
Unhorsing Clarence on his crest display'd,
When conqu'ring England first stood check'd in France.

Livingston.
Say, in a word, the whole of Scottish Peers
Attend a rebel boy.

Chancellor.
Let me but mark
The mightiest of the name; the sage Dalkeith,
Great Angus, Abercorn, and princely Nithsdale.—

Livingston.
Hell! I can hear no more.—Douglas is King,
And rebels all our Lords, who prop his pride.

Chancellor.
Had you but seen their grandeur, as they march'd
On neighing steeds, which trode the earth with scorn,
And mark'd what dignity their brows adorn'd!
O'er all the rest, a daring lofty air
The Douglasses distinguish'd!—Valiant name!
Superior to them all the brothers shone;
Their dress, their arms, and equipage the same.
Two seraphs in the prime of heavenly youth
They seem'd, conducting a fair band of heroes:
And Fleming with them rode, as god rever'd.

Livingston.
Tortures! How shall we blast their odious glories?
For theirs or ours must suddenly expire.

Chancellor.
Provoke not fate, but yield; the chiefs are gracious;
They may forgive their own, their father's foes.

Livingston.
Distraction! Age, experience, legal power,
Yield to unskilful youth, to wild ambition
Give up the nation, and the King to ruin.

Chancellor.
To ruin;—no:—there's many a worthy Lord
To aid their councils.—Well Lord Fleming's prudence
Would suit my place, and noble Douglas' yours.

Livingston.
Accurs'd be Fleming,—Douglas,—all the traitors.
I know Lord Fleming,—and I know Lord Chanc'lor.

Chancellor.
I know thee too.—

Livingston.
What know'st thou me to be?

Chancellor.
A worthy Lord; the Atlas of our state;
Learn'd, good, and wise; my friend, my country's father.

Livingston.
Excuse my warmth; thou know'st what deadly hate
'Twixt me and Fleming burns: how strong its causes!

Chancellor
seeing the King entering.
I know't, my Lord; and late Lord Douglas' spite,
Whose bold ancestors claim'd their Sov'reign's crown.

SCENE II.

Enter King.
Whence the foundation for so bold a claim?

Livingston.
From Huntingdon, the brother of our King,
Three beauteous daughters sprang; and from the first,
Baliol and Cumin; Douglas heirs their right:
The Bruce, next male in blood, the second weds;
From him your right descends, which God maintain,
In spite of Douglas and of all your foes.

Chancellor.
If Douglas be a foe, he's near of kin.
His father of your royal aunt was born,
Whose sister shar'd your hapless uncle's bed.

Livingston.
His tragic death forbids to trust thy kin;
Whom, in his father's life, his uncle starv'd,
O had you seen him beg; but beg in vain,
The coarsest crumbs with piercing famish'd cries;
And seen him tear his flesh, and gnaw his bones;
You would have own'd, crowns tempt to direst deeds:
This mov'd his uncle to destroy your sire.
In vain the haughty Cumins were reduc'd,
The Baliols exil'd, mighty Albany,
And Athol fell, all rich in royal blood,
While Douglas reigns with all their power and pride;
Their daring blood fierce raging in his veins,
And thinks, like these, his sov'reign's crown his right.

Chancellor.
Douglas is bold and young, and such aspire;
Rise, Douglas cannot, but his King must fall;
And more than half the nation wait his nod.
All wish him King; his fathers claim'd the crown;
His leagues with foreign kings secure their aid;
His allies here have harbours, ships, and men:
The mainland Ross's-islanders infest,
And Douglas' borderers the inland shires.
Yet loyal Douglas meditates no war.
In his domains he royal power defies;
Such rights, he says, were granted to his sires.
He's fam'd for virtue, and a patriot soul.
My friendship trusts to fame, and fears not Douglas.

Livingston.
All demagogues virtue's fair liv'ry wear;
A seemly dress to catch the staring croud;
But only wear it till they gain their end;
Then throw the cumb'rous rob abhor'd aside.
Their guilt glares hideous through the thin disguise.
Awake, O King! Douglas thy throne invades;
And if, alone, Lord-Chanc'lor sees no danger,
The more I tremble for my sov'reign's safety.

King.
The brav'ry of his sires, his early worth
Such honours gain; I'll be like my dear cousin,
And be admir'd and follow'd: He is virtuous;
And good men's power secure their neighbour's safety.

Livingston.
True, said the poet, whom the world admires,
Bad is that government where many rule.
Rule he supreme, who holds from heav'n his right;
And at his will the laws and people sway.
Kings, while they can, must crush each rival's pow'r.
All deeds are lawful which a king preserve.

Chancellor.
Alas! my Lord, I'm a plain simple man,
Deny'd your eagle-eye, consummate skill,
Learning profound, and vast state-weilding wisdom:
I'm caught with seeming worth, and crampt with scruples,
Yet prize no friend above my sov'reign King.
You, with a glance, see through the thick disguise,
And well you know to use entrusted power,
[Giving a sealed paper.
Our King, by this, requests you well to guard
His safety and the states; and what you do
For that, declares to be his special will.

King.
You urg'd my hand to this, and spoke of plots
Against my life and crown: but harm not Douglas,
I love him well: you love him too, Lord Chancellor?

Chancellor.
I do: He shall my utmost care employ.
[Exit King.
Here, while our King his fav'rite cousins feasts,
By copious wine, and free familiar speech,
We'll search their inmost souls: detain the chiefs
Till all their train retires. Your grace is wise
To know what then the public good demands.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Hall in Douglas's Lodgings.
Lady BEATRIX reading, enter CRICHTON, Jun.
Crichton,
[Aside
Left here my father's spy: I'm real friend
To these young Lords, and this bright maid's adorer.
—O beauteous Wonder!—I could gaze for ever!
[She rises to retire; he falls at her feet.
O leave me not—Thou glory of thy sex!
Picture of Heaven! and pattern of perfection!
My soul thee worships; all her powers adore thee.

Lady Beatrix.
I scorn the fops who flatter, cring, and kneel,
And impiously rob Heaven, to tickle folly:
But prize the man whose words are big with sense;
Whose manly deeds will merit admiration;
Who speaks what ought to please; nor doubts I know it.

[Exit.
Crichton, Jun.
Solus.
O lovely and admir'd! Thy awful frowns,
Like Heav'n's resistless fires, dart ev'ry glance,
Through my dissolving frame; but killing charm.
What dignity adorns thy graceful air!
How fair thy form! thy virtue how divine!
O Love! O torment! O despairing anguish!

Enter Chancellor, in a profound Soliloquy.
What splendor shines! what happiness dwells here!
Love beams from breast to breast of high and low.
What joy t'a friend were this! to me what torment!
The dame, and guardian, with glad transport view
Each virtue springing in—Mine en'mies brood,
Whose ruin I pursue in friendship's dress—
—Most base!—O had I never seem'd their friend!
Then had I never known their lovely virtues,
Nor Heav'n's blest voice in thunder shook my soul;
Saying, These bear my image; touch not these,—
In effigy then can I murder Heav'n!
And butcher Virtue in her loveliest form?
Shall I hug ruin for the sake of virtue?
Douglas when known will rise his King's delight,
His country's darling; I shall sink abhor'd;—
My shame still black'ning, as his glories brighten.—
—I cannot bear the prospect; perish he,
With all that's virtuous. Perish I, myself,
Ere thus the sun of Douglas triumph o'er me.

Crichton, Jun.
Starting from his Revery.
Must Douglas fall! dreadful suspicions croud
[Aside.
On my distracted mind. Thick flew dispatches
To Livingston; my sire, as Mediator,
Lord Douglas's sent by me: from me receiv'd
The answers: still Lord Regent read in wrath;
And yet his answers ever pleas'd Lord Douglas.
All is not fair—his trust has been abus'd.
To gen'rous friendship treachery's repaid.

Chancellor,
observing his Son.
Still charm the virtues of thy new-gain'd friends?

Crichton, Junior.
The more fair Virtue's seen, the more she charms:
Safe, plain, and easy are her artless ways;
With face erect, her eyes look streight before;
For dauntless is her march, her steps are sure.
Not so pale Fraud; now here she turns, now there,
Still seeking darker shades, secure in none;
Looks ever back, and wheeling often round,
Runs headlong to the ruin she would shun.

Chancellor
aside.
Plagues! my own son, with pencil smear'd in hell,
My picture draws; but pours profuse on theirs
Heav'n's glories blending in assemblage bright.
Well, my philosopher, since thou hast learn'd
To moralize so sagely, strive to mix
The useful with the honest: study profit;
And mix with all a wond'rous deal of caution.
Men are not what they seem: we see the mask,
But not the man, till vice disdain a veil.

Crichton.
My love, and friendship's bright cœlestial flame,
Such dark suspicions banish from my breast.

Chancellor.
Whom dost thou love?

Crichton.
Lord Douglas's lovely sister;
Her beauty and her virtue—

Chancellor.
Yes. Her portion
May charm a King. Stand not aloof admiring:
Be bold and forward. Women love the bold.

Crichton.
I'm fill'd with awe; such sanctity of manners,
And dignity of soul, like angels guard her;
My mind corrected in her presence stands,
Her judgment waiting with a holy dread;
And all her thoughts my soul doth purify,
As for th'inspection of a heav'nly eye.0
Such virtue, with so dazling beauty crown'd,
Is like divinity with thunder arm'd,
To blast who dare approach with thoughts profane.

[Exit.
Chancellor
Solus.

[Exit.