University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Court before a Castle.
Enter Crawford.
Cra.
They go on rarely, in despite of me!
What fool am I, thus to be braved—outfaced
In my own castle, by such foragers;
By things like meteors hovering in a wild,
To lure the poor inhabitants to ruin,
Unknown their frame or substance? If I wist
(As much I dread) Matilda knew their lineage,—
O I would mince them all!—Thus to be bated
By hildings, leechers, nobles of a day!
Ah! were that all, 'twere nought! But she I love
Dearer than life;—dearer than this wrung heart
Can ever feel for aught in earth or heaven—
There is a thrust indeed!
Her hand she freely gave;—mayhap that was
Because our good late king so will'd it.
Gave she her heart? Of that I've had small test!
But ne'er till now ween'd I that heart was false.
Heaven grant I prove deceived; but 'tis as plain,
As proof-abiding that there is connivance,
As shines the day. Nay, I have heard them hint
Of things long past which both of them knew well.
It is so!—Is't indeed? Then what am I?
Yes;—How rank I in being's kalendar?—
Full low indeed!—The veriest downfall'n fiend
That preys on anguish, and delights to gnaw
The immaterial vitals of the soul,
Need not malign my state:—I'll do a deed
Shall make the guileful heart of woman quake
In future ages;—ay, when not a bone
Nor fragment of a skull remains of him
That did it,—when the whole of this proud frame
Heaves in a molehill!—
(Pause.)
Peace, my heart!—They come.

Enter from the Castle, Matilda, Lords, Pages, &c. with bows and arrows.
Bad.
You're ready first, my lord.—O, you shall see
How I'll outdo you with the shaft and bow.

Cra.
You will!

Bad.
List, nobles all. 'Tis known that I,
As master-archer, sit your king forthwith
Till one outdoes me. Then, good sirs, attend:
The tinckell's up from Ganna to Glen-Ocher;
Watch we the roads of Daur; and should the deer,
By greyhounds bated, or by beagles bay'd,
To different districts run, we all may part.
Well, then, let each man dine as best he may,
By crystal spring or on his saddle-bow;
At night we sup here with my Lord of Crawford.

Cra.
Nay, pardon me, sir king, I do not chuse
Thus to be bachanall'd and dinn'd o'nights.
Your late wakes and loud catches do not suit
With my slow-motion'd soul: My dame and I
Would rather be alone.—Pardon, good lords.

Mat.
That's a fair jest: 'Tis well we know my lord.
Trust me, he would not lack your company
To-night, for all the deer that range Glen-Ocher.
Come all, and welcome, and your cheer shall be
The best this wild affords. My lord, you'll come?

Bad.
Doubtless I will, when you desire it.

(Exeunt all but Matilda and Badenoch. Crawford lingers at the side scene.)
Mat.
I would not lose the news of this day's hunt;
I would not miss you at my side to-night,
For aught I think of;—I had almost said,
(Loud.)
Not for my lord himself.

Cra.
(Aside.)
Shall Crawford bear this? No; by yon heaven,
We shall not all sup here to-night!

(Exit.)
Mat.
My lord, did'st ever see so rude a churl?
O, my cheek burns with shame.

Bad.
He's jealous of us to extremity:
See how he looks behind him.

Mat.
O, I rejoice in't.—Closer yet, my lord,
Come closer still; nay, kiss me if you will:
O! I will teaze him till his heart-strings crack.
Jealous of me!—I'll teach him to beware!
Bred in a court as I was, I wont be
Domesticated like a jack by man!

Bad.
Charming Matilda, how I love to see
This spirit in you! Let me clasp thee thus!

Mat.
Nay, now my lord is gone, I list it not.
Calm thee; but hark,—Pray keep his archery down;
Claim every hit—outface him—swear you did it.
If he sit king to-night our sport is spoil'd.

Bad.
Fear not, I'll deal with him.

Mat.
But say, my lord, have you no page nor groom,
To bear your bow and quiver?

Bad.
I had a pretty little wayward boy,
But he is missing.—I'm not sorry for't,
For reasons known between us.

Mat.
(Calls.)
Claude, I say.
Enter Boy.
Go, tend that gentleman to-day.

(Exeunt severally.)