University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—A Room. Enter Albany, Douglas, Lindsey, and Ramorgny.
Albany.
The measure must be sudden and severe,
A storm that breaks not lowers—else the mild
And easy breath of our good king will blow
The righteous cloud of pending chastisement
Far from its destined quarter.

Douglas.
God forbid!
Vengeance no more can wait within my soul.
The prince is ready, ripe to be cut down,
Full-dyed in sin; his shamelessness outspread
In riot and a license beyond speech.
He spends his days and nights in dalliance
And sensual delights. He stops at naught.
Before mine eyes and in my daughter's sight
He dares salute his lemans. Insolence
Profanes his royalty, and his graced rank
Stoops to the reveller's corrupt degree.

Lindsey.
Since our last war he rages in excess,
Flaunts in gay silks, is rash and mettlesome,
Hungry as hawk, and lavish.

Albany.
But I've turned
The key of the exchequer with a will
Not easy to unlatch. He shall not seize
The wealth I've purpose for to buy him drink,
Fine clothes, and base enjoyments. I have griped
His father's childish mind as in a vice,
And hold it firm 'gainst prodigality
And spendthrift rage.

Ramorgny.
Your grace, he's desperate;
Swears that you starve his pleasure, which must feed
On golden pieces as its honied store,
Or perish.

Albany.
Let it perish! 'tis a drone,
A slavish grasper of the yellow hoard
It never gathered.

Ramorgny.
He's infuriate,
And in his passion cuts from every belt
The purse well-filled or empty; from the poor
He takes his mite, from the rich citizen
His cumbrous weight of merry-sounding coin.
Will they or nil they, each must render up
Their gilt provision for his potent need.
This does he every night.

Lindsey.
Audacious deed!
Good Albany, we pray as Justice spoke
That sudden end be put to such offence.

Albany.
Do not entreat; the need I recognise,
And only wait for opportunity
To fling apart her doors in circling time
For entrance of my deed.—Fellow, your hest?

[Enter Attendant.]
Attendant.
The Bishop of St. Andrews died last night
At cock-crow.

Douglas.
That's i' the dawn.

Albany.
A fat divine,
With lands to match the breadth of his good paunch,
And gold his body's weight. How died the whale?

Attendant.
'Twas apoplexy.

Albany.
Perished by the neck,
As Death were but a hangman! Bear your news
To the king's pious ear.
[Exit Attendant.
My brain is quick;
Suggestion leaps within it, as a child
Unborn, but stirred. The bishop, as I said,
Was rich beyond belief, and where he goes
Can nothing follow; therefore is his wealth
Where he hath left it—in St. Andrews town,
Which town, I pray you note, is reached by way
Of wild Strathtyrum—mile or so to left
Of Falkland Castle, which is mine—a hold
Safe as the brow of councillor to hide
The secrets that it spans.

Douglas.
How points this speech?

Albany.
Ramorgny, is the duke at feast?

Ramorgny.
He is.
The tavern roared as I went by.

Albany.
You're due
Among the boon companions?

Ramorgny.
Ay, your grace.

Albany.
Then go and spread report of this man's death,
Drop hints of wealth, of satisfaction bright
To bold adventure: say the enterprise
Is perilous and promises much gold.
Do this, Ramorgny, with familiar voice
And stimulating laugh. Go speedily.
[Exit Ramorgny.
Friends, will you hence? Design with chaos strives
In this mine orb; I pray you solitude.

Douglas.
And may it be of moment to the land.

Lindsey.
Amen, as I'm a patriot.

[Exeunt.
Albany.
'Twill work!
I'll prison him before the week is out,
And then! ... That cobweb, how it draws
My inattentive eye; I cannot turn
My glance from its magnetic central point
Of all imagination.—It is said
That mighty Bruce, my famed progenitor,
Learnt lessons from a spider—patience
Through oft-retarded enterprise.—Yon fly
With the tight wings!—'Tis held and then ... destroyed.

[Exit.