University of Virginia Library

SCENE V.

A rudely paved court, with a low building in front. The stage perfectly dark, and thunder heard at a distance.
Enter Malcolm, who goes to the door of the building, and knocks.
Mal.
Ho! Culloch! art thou waking? Rouse thee, Culloch!
I hear him snoring in his heavy sleep,
Press'd with the glutton feasting of the day.
[Knocking louder than before.
Canst thou not hear? Holla! ho! rouse thee, Culloch!
The heavy sluggard! Ha! he's stirring now.

[Laying his ear close to the door.
Cul.
(within).
Who's there?

Mal.
It is thy master.

Cul.
What is wanted?
It is not morning yet.

Mal.
That drawling voice!
He is not yet awake. Very loud.)
Rise, man, immediately:
Open the door, and do what I desire thee.
[To himself, after a short pause.
Six hours upon my gallant steed will end
This agony of doubt.—I'll know my fate—
Joy or despair.—He is asleep again.
[Knocking as before.
Make haste, make haste, I say! inert and sluggish!
O that, like spirits, on the tempest borne,
The transit could be made! Alas! alas!
If what I fear hath happen'd, speed or stillness,
Or day or midnight,—every circumstance
Of mortal being will to me be nothing.
Not ready yet!—Ha! now I see the light.
[Light seen from the window.
Six hours of my brave steed, and if my fears
Are then confirm'd—forgive me, noble creature!
We'll lay our burdens down and die together.
Enter Culloch slowly from the building, rubbing his eyes with one hand, and holding a candle in the other.
Haste, tardy creature! art thou sleeping still?

Cul.
What is your honour's will? O hone! O hone!
It is a murky night.

Mal.
I know it is.
Unlock the stable door, and saddle quickly
My gallant Oscar.

[Thunder again.
Cul.
Does your honour hear it?

Mal.
Hear what?

Cul.
The thunder growling o'er Benmore:
And that was lightning too that flared so fleetly:
The welkin's black as pitch.

Mal.
And let it growl; and be the welkin pall'd
In sackcloth! To the spot where I am going
We'll find the way by instinct.—Linger not:
Do what I have desired thee instantly.

Cul.
Ay, ay! the saddle upon Oscar's back.
The bran new saddle would your honour have?

Mal.
Yes, fool, and set about it instantly.
[Exit Culloch.
These dark and heavy bodings of my mind
Come from no natural bent of apprehension.
It must be so. Yet, be it dream or vision,
Unmeaning chance, or preternatural notice,
As oft hath been vouchsafed, if living seers
Or old tradition lie not,—this uncertainty
Ere morning dawn would drive my brain distracted,
Were I inactively to wait for day;
Therefore, to horse!
[Thunder louder than before.
That sound is in accordance with the storm
In this perturbed breast. Is it not ominous
Of that which soon shall strike me to the dust,
A blasted lonely remnant?—
Methinks he should ere this—time flies apace;
The listless sluggard must be urged to hasten
His so unwilling task.

[Exit hastily.