University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

—As before.
Bruce, Macduff, Abernethy, and other Lords.
LORD BRUCE.
And so this mock affair is shuffled up
At last; and Cousin John, God's grace forgive him!
Has sold his country for a bawbling bonnet
Of despicable gold! the guilt of which,
So bought, will line it with a thousand stings,
Making it to his head a cap of torture
To prickle him to death:—Go ye, my lords,
And celebrate, with cozenage of looks,
His coronation; I will stay at home,
Aloof from rite so thick with infamy.
I'll burrow in the darkest dens of earth,
Rather than stand in sunlight, and behold
My country beggar'd of her reputation,
Enthrall'd, and doom'd, and damn'd to an usurper,
By one whose hand should prop her glory up.
Can parricide than this be found more hideous?
O, I am mad on't; I'll go instant home,
And tutor children, family, and vassals,
Upon this theme's abhorred wickedness;
Adjuring them, by Huntington's proud blood,
And prouder, more ennobling, love of country,
To nourish, feed, and husband in their souls,
Dear hate and rancour at such caitiff deed,
Till retribution come.
[Exit De Bruce.

ABERNETHY.
Aha! is it thus?
Already up in fume?—Let him go packing
Amid his Carrick boors, and fret his soul
To death, with crabbed lectures on his rights:—
We are enow without him t'introduce
King John to royalty.

MACDUFF.
His speech is bad:
I like it not.

ABERNETHY.
My lord, my lord, be wary;
Look to thy words, and single them with care,
Lest they bewray thee cross and mal-content.
For should the disaffection but peep out,
King John has friends to make rebellious lips
Regorge their utter'd treason.

MACDUFF.
Injurious lord!
I pray my God, that our dear country be
Enrich'd and honour'd from this day's decision.
I broach no treason; I inflame no feuds;
But my beloved land will pardon me
My spirits' heaviness, when I behold
Her noble prime, the pillars and the stays
Of her too-tott'ring throne, now wheeling off
In civil spleen, t'uptug it from the base,
And rive it, in their rivalry, asunder:
May God defend our land!

ABERNETHY.
Thy fears, my lord,
Argue distrust even of the God thou pray'st to,
And of King Edward reigning under him.
Edward has banish'd fear, and chased it hence
To Annandale, where it will settle down
To silence and contempt.

MACDUFF.
Heaven send it so;
My prayers be audible; my woeful fears
Rest in my heart unutter'd.

ABERNETHY.
Hence, away,
For Scoon, my lords; the timid droop behind;
King Baliol's loyal liegemen forward thither.