University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

—Another part of the City.
Enter Duncan and Seaton.
DUNCAN.
Good Seaton, I am grieved to be convinced
Th'intended rescue is impossible;
I have explored the ground, and find no hope.
Short is the distance 'tween the good man's gaol,
And his ahhorred place of sacrifice;
And that short space is trebly-lined with rows
Of armed soldiers bristled thick with spears.
Nor only these; but on the Castle's walls
A hundred cannoniers stand all equipt
With fiery linstocks, ready at a word
T'explode upon the huddle of the street
Their murd'rous missiles, should the people make
The smallest movement to relieve their saint.
It would be needless cruel to expose
Ourselves and friends to death so manifest,
Without the chance of saving him we love,
The very object of our bold irruption.

SEATON.
'Tis even so, my friend—we must submit
Our souls in silence to the ways of heaven,
Who wills that wicked men should tyrannize
A moment, carrying their ungodly schemes,
That fuller retribution of sore wrath
May seize them, sorer felt from late success.

DUNCAN.
Go then, instruct our friends where they are met,
Awaiting what directions we may send.
Tell them their proffer'd aids are now not needed,
At least for rescue, as we once design'd.
[Exit Seaton.
For me, no bus'ness in this town remains,
But to take farewell of my doomed friend,
And catch his precious blessing ere he die.

[Exit.