University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

St. James's Park.
Enter Dalgarno shading his eyes with his hand.
Dalg.
Hither she comes!

Enter Buckingham.
Buck.
(Coming behind Dalgarno)
My lord!

Dalg.
(Not turning his head towards him.)
I'm busy, friend.

Buck.
Friend, yet not friendly!

Dalg.
(Turning round.)
Duke of Buckingham!
I pray your grace forgive me.

Buck.
Coming in
When others quit the ride?

Dalg.
There is a reason.

Buck.
A fair one?

Dalg.
Very.

Buck.
Well, I'll spoil no sport.

Dalg.
She's drawing to the snare! The thousand pieces
Shall wait upon your grace to-morrow.

Buck.
(Going.)
Ever
My excellent friend!
[Exit Buckingham.

At another entrance Skourlie comes on.
Dalg.
Now, is the captain ready?

Skour.
With his assistant bully. But I hope
You meditate no force?

Dalg.
Force! Oh, no more
Than woman thinks becoming. Now! dost quail,
Dost quake, poltroon, and doubt? Why do I pay thee!
For what base use retain thee?

Skour.
Good, my lord,
For fraud, not force,—to shuffle, forge, or do
Any safe villainy.

Dalg.
I shall so use thee.
Stop—she dismounts! (looking out)
Now whilst her blue coat holds
Margaret crosses at the back of the stage, attended by Jin. Vin. who wears thick close curls, and a flat 'prentice's cap, set obliquely on the head.
The nags, my foot-page, as in boyish sport,
Will cut the reins, and turn the steeds a-drift.
In the confusion of pursuit, our captain
Will place her on my roan, which is in waiting
Near, with a pillion. As for you, Sir Softly
Watch here, and on pretence to keep the peace,
Make such cross movements as may best impede
Her men, and give us time to clear our prize.

(Dalgarno puts on his mask, and retires to the back of the stage with Skourlie.)
Re-enter Margaret and Jin. Vin.
Jin.
Your voice, sweet mistress Marg'et, soft as 'tis,
More stirs my heart, than will St. Dunstan's clock,
When the last hour of my indenture strikes.

Marg.
This to your masters' niece! I pray young man
Know your place better: There now, Mister Jenkin,
While you prate thus, some other idle 'prentice
Has cut my palfrey's reins! Fine doings, sir,
To meet my uncle's ears! There,—there, the horses
Both racing off! (looking out).


Jin.
(Springing forward.)
But your one word can give me
A greyhound's speed, to shoot a-head, and turn them!

[Exit.
Marg.
[alone].
Who should have thought of such presumption? He,
A flat cap 'prentice! There! he'll never catch
[Whimpering.]
Those runaways—O, I am vex'd to weeping.

Enter Peppercole.
Pep.
My fellow, mistress has a horse at hand,
Will carry double,—at your service, mistress.

Marg.
Your pardon, sir;—my haste is not so urgent.

Pep.
You have no cause to fear. My steed has stood
The loud artill'ry,—borne me, madam, full
Against a grove of spears.—What, fellow! Ho!

Enter a Bully.
Marg.
[To Pep.]
Sir, I request your absence.

Pep.
I am more
Your friend, than to obey you. Take the maiden
Up on your pillion.

Marg.
Help! Why, Jenkin! George!

Re-enter Jin. Vin. with George.
Jin.
Curs, cow'rds, let go!

(Jin. Vin, with his Stick, attacks the assistant Bully, while George, with his, engages Peppercole, who immediately runs away. George then comes to the assistance of Jin. Vin, upon which Dalgarno steps forward).
Dalg.
Cow'rds, say you? two to one.
And call that one a coward!
(Dalgarno collars George, takes his stick from him, and drives him off; while Jin. Vin. and the assistant bully go out fighting, so as to leave Dalgarno alone with Margaret.)
Now fair mistress,
Let me conduct you.

Marg.
Sir, I pray you, quit
Your most discourteous hold. You should be one
Of better breeding.

Dalg.
Nay, you must forgive
This little violence: 'tis to preserve you
That I seem thus ungentle. (She struggles.)
By my soul,—

Enter Nigel.
Nigel.
What! talks Dalgarno of his soul? And that
In forcing a weak girl?

Marg.
(To Nigel, as if imploring his interference.)
My lord!

(Dalgarno, holding Margaret's hand, and addressing Nigel, who is trying to disengage her.)
Dalg.
Let go!
This lady's in my hands; and were she not,
The king's park is no place for quarrelling,—
Except to those who wish to do it safely.
Put up, and seek some place where 'tis less penal
To draw, than in the precincts of the court.

Nigel.
The better—I shall rid them of a traitor.

Dalg.
Stand off, I say.

Nigel.
If it were at the foot
O'th'throne—

Dalg.
You do mistake your man.

Nigel.
Oh, no;
Spite of your mask, I know you for Dalgarno,
And know Dalgarno for—a villain. (Strikes him with his loose glove.)
Now
Is your sword ready?

Dalg.
Self-defence is now,
My warrant. (They fight.)


Marg.
Not for me, Lord Nigel!

(Margaret throws herself on a bank. Dalgarno, pressing upon Nigel, forces him to give ground, and follows him, fighting, off the stage. Skourlie comes forward as they are going off.)
Skour.
Sirs,
In the king's name keep peace! Lord Nigel! tilting
About a woman, in the very precincts
Of the king's court! (Looking at Margaret.)
What eyes! what lips! what ancles!
She has possess'd me wholly. Pretty mistress,
I'll see you safely lodged.

Marg.
More insult! (She rises.)


Re-enter Jin. Vin.
Jin.
Whither
Lead you that lady?

Skour.
Only to her friends.

Jin.
I am her friend; her humble friend and servant.

Marg.
He is, indeed, sir.

Skour.
O, I'm satisfied.
I seek no brawl—'tis not my trade to fight—
Only, next time I do a lady service,
I'll have, at least, her thanks.

Marg.
Sir, pardon me:
I knew not your kind purpose; but I'm thankful,
Trust me, and so will be my uncle Heriot:
He'll gladly see, and thank you.

Jin.
(Consequentially)
Sir, you're thank'd!

Skour.
(To Margaret)
Then, by your leave, I'll wait on you and him.
(Aside.)
Here's a brave introduction! To the lady
I could not have a better—And the uncle,—
Oh, trust my gold for courting uncles!

Jin.
(To Margaret)
Courage,
Mistress!

Re-enter Nigel.
Nigel.
A moment's breath!

Marg.
You are pursued!

Nigel.
Not by Dalgarno: him I had disarmed:
But the noise waked the yeomen of the guard,
And, being forced to fly, I have, by doubling,
Outrun the scent.

Marg.
Ah, me!

Skour.
Why know you not
'Tis a Star-chamber matter to be found
With a drawn weapon here? Much more to strike! (Nigel is going.)

Nay, if you'll fly, fly to the sanctuary,
Get to Whitefriars; halt at the Temple-gate,
I'll come anon, and find you out a refuge.

Nigel.
Good friend, much thanks. (To Margaret)
May I have leave to touch
This hand? (Raises Margaret's hand to his lips.)


Jin.
Hand off! the guard is after you—
A pretty time for kissing, faith!

Nigel.
I'm gone!

Marg.
Fly, fly, my lord, and may her blessing speed you,
Whom you have saved.

[Exit Nigel.
Jin.
(To Margaret)
There, you are mighty grateful!
For half those thanks, I would have done it thrice.

[Exeunt Margaret and Jin. Vin.
Skour.
(Alone)
So, for Whitefriars! It is the common sink
Of our gross London: and th'off-scourings run
Readily to it. Yes, I'll see your lordship
Housed in the Sanctu'ry: who hides, they say,
Knows best to find: and though the vulgar bailiff
Arrests not there, no priv'lege bars the visit
You shall be honour'd with from the Star-chamber.
Let me but have your scent for those staunch blood hounds,
And if you 'scape to-morrow, to redeem
Your mortgage from Dalgarno, or to cross
My chace of Marg'ret, then is Andrew Skourlie
A scriv'ner bred, and yet but half a knave!

[Exit.

SCENE II.

The Tap-Room of the Bull Dog Tavern, in Whitefriars. A table with men drinking ale, in various eccentric and ruffian-like dresses. At the top, Hildebrod, monstrously fat, with a red nose, and but one eye; dressed in a plum-coloured jerkin, much worn and stained, and unbuttoned at the paunch. On his left, Peppercole, and on his right, Shelter, with rusty gown, band torn, and wig awry. Next to Peppercole, Trapbois, in a thread bare hood of kersey, drawn over his head and buttoned about his neck. Hildebrod, with the chorus, singing as the curtain rises.
Hildebrod and chorus.
Old Sir Simon the king,
Old Sir Simon the king,
With his malmsey nose,
And his ale dropp'd hose,
And sing, hey, ding-a-dong, ding!

During the ditty, enter Skourlie, introducing Nigel, who averts his face as much as possible from the stare of the company. Skourlie makes a sign to Nigel

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30

not to advance until the close of the song, which Hildebrod carries to a conclusion, scrutinizing Nigel narrowly with his single eye.
Hild.
(After the song.)
So ho! a foreigner!
(To Pep. and Shelter)
Sword and gown, make way.
The form at bottom there,—'twill hold you both.
(To Skourlie)
What cully bring you?

(He confers aside with Skourlie.)
Peppercole goes sulkily to a form at the bottom of the table, and sits down on it, with his back to the audience.
Pep.
Shall the militant
Make way for smock-faced Tyro?

Shelter.
(Following him.)
Dost thou grumble,
When learned coif is thus unseemly shoved
Out of his bench?

Hild.
Silence, rebellious peers!
Take off your hat, sir. (To Nigel.)
You're in the Duke's presence,
The Duke, sir, of Alsatia; which high title
Graces unworthy me.

Pep.
Now, by my whiskers,
'Tis Nigel!

(Peppercole, with a significant look, steals out.)
Hild.
Whoso seeks th'immunities
Of our Whitefriars (hight, in loftier phrase
Alsatia) must propound to us his name,
Degree, and cause of seeking sanctuary.

Skour.
Or, so your statute wills, pay double garnish.

Shelter.
That is the law.

Skour.
Which this good gentleman
Will do in Rhenish.

All.
Noble gentleman!
Most gen'rous gallant!

Hild.
Bring our ducal archives!
(To the Drawer.)
Tapster! the Rhenish.
(To Trapbois.)
For a lodging, Trap,
Thine may accommodate our novice.

Trap.
Aye,
For a consideration.

The Tapster brings in the Rhenish, which is drunk greedily.
Hild.
Come, that stave then,
Alsatia's installation chaunt. Strike up.

Hildebrod beckons to Nigel, and they converse apart during the following

GLEE.
Chorus.
Chorus.

By the conclusion of the chaunt, the rundlet of rhenish has been emptied, and all the Alsatians, except Trapbois, march off in file, repeating the last four lines of the chorus, and huzzaing to Nigel as they pass him. Nigel goes off with Trapbois and Skourlie at the opposite door.

SCENE III.

An opening among wretched lanes in Whitefriars—On a board over the door of a large dilapidated house, are the words “Trapbois, Money Lente.”
Enter Nigel followed by Trapbois and Skourlie, who are in earnest conversation.
Skour.
(to Trapbois.)
But are you sure?

Trap.
I tell you, I've the jewels
Pledged in my hands on purpose. (To Nigel)
There's our house, sir,—
(to Skourlie.)
So you will be ready with your mortgage deeds,
To be paid off. (Knocks at his own door.)
You've notice, mind.

[The door being opened, Nigel and Trapbois go into the house.
Skour.
(alone.)
Some devil
Has cross'd me here. Nigel redeem! and that
With the king's jewels! having him once lodged
Here, in Whitefriars, I thought the prey secure.

Enter Dalgarno, followed by Peppercole and officers, who take their stand at the back of the stage.
Dalg.
Where have you sheltered Nigel? There's a warrant
For this day's brawl i'th'Park.

Skour.
My lord, no process
Runs here, but from the star-chamber.

Dalg.
I ask
Where is he?

Skour.
In his lodging: in the cobweb
Of the old spider, Trapbois. Bare apartments
To house a fav'rite.

Dalg.
Fav'rite!

Skour.
Yes: it seems
His credit has, of late, most wond'rously
Shot up at court.

Dalg.
His credit? Why, by six
To-morrow afternoon, his all i'th'world
Will be the mem'ry of some land he had—
Scant credit for a fav'rite!

Skour.
Yet he means
To pay our mortgage off, and that with funds
Provided by the king.

Dalg.
What, by the king
Of Eldorado? Long will Nigel gape,
If 'tis th'exchequer of king James he looks to.

Skour.
King James has other means—certain crown jewels—

Dalg.
And what of them?

Skour.
Which he has lent to Nigel,
At Heriot's intercession, to obtain
Advances on. But now I had the fact
From Trapbois, who is set to find the money.

Dalg.
Curse on their Scotch intrigue! fav'rite indeed!
Is there no help? Could nothing be devised
Out of this morning's brawl, to fret the king
Against him?

Skour.
That were likely.

Dalg.
To expose
A naked rapier is, with gentle Jamie,
A more unseemly fault than to fly from it.

Skour.
Have a star-chamber warrant then, and seize him.

Dalg.
That shall be done. But, for the jewels, Skourlie,
Shew me the way to stop the ill they lead to—
His land's redemption.

Skour.
There's but one; to borrow
Those baubles, without which he cannot muster
The gold for this repurchase—but to borrow
The jewels, of old Trapbois, just till six
To-morrow afternoon, no longer. Then,
Nigel may raise Peru, it comes too late.

Dalg.
Borrow? How borrow? Death, there is no hazard
I would not run to have them in my hold
One day! Well how thou gap'st now with thy “borrow!”
Thou dost not think he walks abroad o'nights
With such a handful, for a sturdy knave
To knock him down, and rake him?

Skour.
Nay, not so;
But if—your ear— (Observing the officers, he whispers to Dalgarno.)


Pep.
(To the officers.)
These manners for a lord!
Broil me like any rasher, if I palate
Such incivility: why, rabbit me,
I am a soldier, sirs.

Dalg.
(Turning round.)
Who talks so loud?

Pep.
(Sneaking a few paces backward.)
My lord, I did but say I was a soldier.

Dalg.
No doubt, you did but say so. (To Skourlie.)
While he sleeps?
The exploit looks likely.

Skour.
And as safe as lying:
You'll not ev'n break the old man's rest. The leads
Over my office run behind his house;
And from that stage up to his chamber window,
(Whose grating has these several days hung loose,
Through fear, I guess, of charge for its repair,)
The height's not far. Besides, you will not keep
The trinkets beyond six to-morrow evening.

Dalg.
You'll act as guide?

Skour.
My nerves, my lord, are weak;
The valiant captain now—

Dalg.
The valiant captain
Is quite as rank a coward as thyself.

Skour.
True, but he knows the chamber; has been suitor
Unto the daughter: not, indeed, encouraged,
But oft times there.

Dalg.
We'll take him, lacking better.
This is a frolic to repay some hazard.

Skour.
And yet there's none. (To Peppercole.)
Captain!
(To Dalgarno.)
I'll find you cloaks,
Masks, and such implements else as you shall need,
And wait upon you speedily. At midnight
You'll do't in safety.

[Exeunt Skourlie, Peppercole, and Officers.
Dalg.
I have known no prank
Compass'd, since first I made this fellowship
With my star-wandering boys, my night companions—
Nay, none that high-born minion of the moon
Or taking rogue e'er did, in merrier times,
When mad prince Hal cried “Stand,” to Gadshill trav'lers,
Or Robin Huntingdon took toll in Sherwood
From portly priests, more fraught with golden issues
Than this night's enterprize! The jewels gain'd,
I bar my Scot of his pawn'd heritage,
Drive him a beggar from this girl's idolatry,
And crush the only influence that could claim
The windfall of these northern forfeitures.
O, that 'twere dead o'night, and the deed done!
For darkness is the dawn of brave men's fortunes,
The menstruum of the real alchymy!

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

A Room in Heriot's house.
Margaret is discovered sitting at a table, leaning her chin on the palm of her hand. Bridget bending over the back of her chair with a silver tankard.
Bridg.
What not a drop of this nice posset, rosebud?
Well, if you wont, I must. [sipping]


Marg.
O, Bridget! Bridget!

Bridg.
Well what's amiss? Let's see your palm and try
If I'm enough a gypsey, so to find
What foot you halt upon.

Marg.
[Giving her hand scornfully.]
As if I halted
On any foot at all.

Bridg.
[Examining her hand.]
Brave lines; wealth, pleasure,
An equipage to shake Whitehall—Oho!
You smile? Aye, sure, why should not smart Jin. Vin.
Ride, great Lord Mayor, in a gilt coach to court?

Marg.
(withdrawing her hand)
Jin. Vin. a clown! Then you forget who drew
His sword for me?

Bridg.
Lord Nigel? Why, she's mad!
You love a lord, and him a Scot? of course
Prouder than Lucifer, though poor as Job.
You, for a lord, child!

Marg.
How the woman stares
With her wide eyes! I would not be so silly,
Had I face like that, to make it plainer!

Bridg.
Silly I may be; but, for plain, young mistress,
Perhaps, if faces came to be compared—

Marg.
O, we are angry, are we! Now, I'll tell you—

Bridg.
Tell your own looking-glass, since its so much
In favour with you. I'll not stay to hear—

Enter George. Bridget, who was leaving the room, turns back to listen.
George.
Mistress, one Master Skourlie.

Marg.
O, no doubt,
With news of my preserver!
[Exit George.
Enter Skourlie.
Pray, come in, sir:
You were about to speak. He's safe, I trust;
That is, I mean—

Skour.
Lord Nigel? In Alsatia,
Quite safe, just now. What he may be to-morrow
Before the star-chamber—

Marg.
The star-chamber!

Skour.
Oh, no affair of life and death: the penance
Is but to lose the hand, to have the hand
Lopp'd by the common headsman, nothing more.
I see you shudder: and, in faith, a wrist
Hideously sear'd by the law's minister,
Might make a gallant loathsome, in the eye
Of dames less delicate.

Marg.
I pray you, chuse
Some subject less abhorrent.

Skour.
Your fair self:
That were ripe matter for a commentary
Of the best grace—Your smile, perhaps, has power
Where you suspect not:

Marg.
(aside)
Dare I hope it? Oh,
He'd not have chosen such a confident!
(To Skourlie)
Explain yourself, I pray.

Skour.
We're not alone.

Marg.
(To Bridget)
You said, dame, you were going?

Bridg.
O, an't please you!
What now? (to herself)


[Exit Bridget into an anti-chamber, at the back of the Stage.
Skour.
Perhaps that smile has pow'r to rescue
Ev'n him who rescued you.

Marg.
Speak, speak!

Skour.
There needs
But gold to scatter freely, and I'll vouch
For his escape, though twenty officers
Bark'd at his heels. A thousand pounds would waft him
Safe over sea.

Marg.
Alas! but I've no thousand.

Skour.
I have: and mine fair mistress, would be yours—
Sweet mistress, if—

Marg.
This is not for my hearing.

Skour.
Yes, by my soul, it is! To that first thousand
Add thousands more, and thousands yet to those,
I'm unexhausted still—nay, lend your ear—
Whatever gold can buy, that woman covets,
As what will gold not buy, I can bestow,
And will, on thee. I've liv'd a life of gains,
Lent at large usance—batter'd on th'estates
Of prodigal great men—there's not a manor
Of their inheritance, but I've my mortgage
Under the surface, waiting like an earthquake,
Its time to swallow all! But my broad gold,
All my huge heaps, lie dark as in the mine,
Till the meridian of those sunny eyes
Shine on the ore, and bring it forth to light.

Marg.
You wrong yourself and me, Sir.

Skour.
Wrong you? no.
For you, I'll wrong all else—do any thing—safe,
To please, to tempt, to buy, to bribe your love.
You shall have pageantry—a cloud of servants,
To fly before your thoughts—a glare of lights,
That shall make noon a shadow—carriages—
Banquets—such couches, as the cygnet's down
Where a harsh type of. There are jewels, too,
My eastern treas'ry—Spoils of gorgeous queens,
From their far glitt'ring regions—thou shalt have them—
Pearls, like a galaxy, thick sown about thee,
And starry diamonds, whose bright constellation
Would make a firmament!

Marg.
I'll hear no more.
Without! (calling towards the anti-chamber.)


Skour.
So cold, so scornful! it may cost thee
Some burning tears, if thus I quit thee, mistress!

Marg.
On any terms avoid me!

Skour.
Be it so—
I take thee at thy word. The rock that seem'd
To spring a fountain here, (striking his breast)
is closed again,
And I'm once more myself.

Re-enter Bridget.
Marg.
(To her)
You're well returned.—
A scriv'ner!

Skour.
But whose riches are nobility!
I read your childish heart—read for whose sake
The goldsmith's niece disdains the untitled scriv'ner.
Let her, and let the lord she doats on, pay for't;
One vice, at least, of noble pedigree
The low born scriv'ner feeds—the lust of vengeance!

[Exit.
Bridg.
Here's a brave suitor! I had served you right
If I had left you longer to his love.

Marg.
Pardon that peevishness—I've been so flutter'd— (Taking Bridget's hand)

Come, you'll forgive me now, my bonny wife,—
And, Bridget, wear this for me. (Giving her a ring.)


Bridg.
(Affecting reluctance.)
Oh, it's wasted
On such a dowdy, plain-faced thing as I.

Marg.
Bridget—have you a mind to see the king?

Bridg.
(Half sullenly.)
I like a frolic.

Marg.
You shall go with me.

Bridg.
Go where?

Marg.
To Greenwich Park. His Majesty
Hunts there to-morrow early:—my good uncle
Is gone to Epping, and will scarce be back
Till tow'rd the afternoon; so I shall use
His absence, ev'n to be a naughty girl,
And wear—

Bridg.
What, pray you?

Marg.
Stay a moment here,
And you shall see.

[Exit into the anti-chamber.
Bridg.
(Eyeing the ring on her finger.)
Really, th'effect is not
Amiss, at all. Only I doubt if John
Will let me wear it.

Re-enter Margaret.
Marg.
Do you know this habit?

Bridg.
Another fancy dress! I've had enough
Of them.—O, the Scots page's gear you wore
Before King James, at Christmas, in the mumming.—
He ask'd your name, I mind, and the joke was
To keep it from him:—and your uncle Heriot
Look'd grave, and took you home.

Marg.
But not till James
Promised, that, for a song which took his fancy,
He'd grant that page a boon.

Bridg.
And do you mean
To claim it now? O, I suppose, a pardon
For the young lord.

Marg.
You'll go?

Bridg.
Aye, that I will,
Though my old John scold, after, for a week:
I'll give his jealousy a twinge!

Marg.
By day break
We must be there; so, lodge you here to-night.

Bridg.
I will: for should I sleep at home, I'm thinking
John might not let me go. But, if the king
Refuse!—

Marg.
Then I would break my heart!

Bridg.
And Nigel
Would lose his hand. Why not dispatch a boat
To take him from Whitefri'rs, to-night, on board
Some foreign ship? Then, if you win his pardon,
Out springs he from his covert, like a swallow
After the winter:—if you fail, he takes
Wing for a milder climate.

Marg.
Any thing
Rather than risk the horrid penalty
That villain harp'd on.

Bridg.
Well, Jin. Vin. will do it.

Marg.
Mo more of him.

Bridg.
Nay, not a jacket of 'em
Knows the Thames better: and, to get a rival
Pack'd off—

Marg.
A rival!

Bridg.
He'll work double tides.

Marg.
Well, as you list.

Bridg.
Then here's to love and luck—
[Sips from the tankard.
That my pet lamb may soon become my lady,
And the tall tankard wet his brim with candle!

[Exit.
Marg.
(alone.)
If James refuse me? O, no unkind doubt
Shall glance its shadow on my springing hope,
That like a sunflow'r, turns her to the light,
And blossoms there. Set fairly, then, soft gales,
Upon love's path to-morrow! clear the film
From the blue eye of Heav'n, and in all bosoms
Breathe light and gentle spirits: that kind nature
May move in my appeal, and high-wrought greatness
Relax to favour, and sweet clemency!

[Exit.