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And they will be revenged. Perhaps even now,
Arm'd and prepared for murder, they but wait
A darker and more silent hour, to break
Into the chamber, where they think thou sleep'st.
This moment, this, heav'n hath ordain'd to save thee!
Fly to the camp, my son!
Doug. And leave you here?
No : to the castle let us go together:
Call up the ancient servants of your house,
Who in their youth did eat your father's bread,
Then tell them loudly, that I am your son.
If in the breasts of men one spark remains
Of sacred love, fidelity, or pity,
Some in your cause will arm. I ask but few
To drive those spoilers from my father's house.
Lady R. Oh, Nature, Nature' what can check thy
Thou genuine offspring of the daring Douglas!
But rush not on destruction: save thyself,
And I am safe. To me they mean no harm.
Thy stay but risks thy precious life in vain.
That winding path conducts thee to the river.
Cross where thou see'st a broad and beaten way,
Which, running eastward, leads thee to the camp.
Instant demand admittance to Lord Douglas;
Show him these jewels which his brother wore.
Thy look, thy voice, will make him feel the truth,
Which I, by certain proof, will soon confirm.
Doug. I yield me, and obey: but yet my heart
Bleeds at this parting. Something bids me stay
And guard a mother's life. Oft have I read *
Of wondrous deeds by one bold arm achieved. ..
Our foes are two ; no more : let me go forth,
And see if any shield can guard Glenalvon.
Lady R. If thou regard'st thy mother, or rever'st
Thy father's memory, think of this no more.
One thing I have to say before we part: -
Long wert thou lost; and thou art found, my child,
In a most fearful season. War and battle
I have great cause to dread. Too well I see
Which way the current of thy temper sets;
To-day I've found thee. Oh! my long-lost hope.
If thou to giddy valour givest the rein,
To-morrow I may lose my son for ever !
The love of thee, before thou saw'st the light,
Sustain'd my life when thy brave father fell.
If thou shalt fall, I have not love nor hope
In this waste world! My son, remember me!
Doug. What shall Isay? How can I give you com-
The god of battles of my life dispose
As may be best for you! for whose dear sake
I will not bear myself as I resolved.
But yet consider, as no vulgar name
That which I boast sounds amongst martial men,
How will inglorious caution suit my claim :
The post of fate unshrinking I maintain.
My country's foes must witness who I am.
On the invaders' heads I’ll prove my birth,
Till friends and foes confess the genuine strain.
If in this strife I fall, blame not your son,
Who, if he live not honour'd, must not live.
Lady R. I will not utter what my bosom feels.
Too.well I love that valour, which I warn.
Farewell, my son my counsels are but vain,
And as high heaven hath will'd it, all must be.
Gaze not on me, thou wilt mistake the path:
I'll point it out again. [Ezeunt.
[Jast as they are separating,
Enter from the wood, Lord RANDolph, and GLENALWON.
Lord R. Not in her presence. Now—
Glen. I'm prepared. Lord R. No: I command thee, stay; I go alone: it never shall be said, That I took odds to combat mortal man. The noblest vengeance is the most complete. [Erit. [GLENALvoN makes some steps to the same side of the stage, listens and speaks. Glen. Demons of death, come settle on my sword, And to a double slaughter guide it home ! The lover and the husband both must die. Lord R. [Behind the scenes.] Draw, villain! draw! Doug, [Without..] Assail me not, Lord Randolph; Not as thou lovest thyself. [Clashing of swords. Glen. Now is the time— [He runs out.
Enter LADY RANDolph, at the opposite side of the stage, faint and breathless.
Lady R. Lord Randolph, hear me; all shall be thine own; But spare O spare my son!
Enter Douglas, with a sword in each hand.
Doug. My mother's voice o I can protect thee still. Lady R. He lives! he lives! : For this, for this, to heaven eternal praise! But sure, I saw thee fall. Doug. It was Glenalvon. Just as my arm had master'd Randolph's sword, The villain came behind me; but I slew him. Lady R. Behind thee! Ah thou'rt wounded ! Oh, my child, How pale thou look'st |! And shall I lose thee now Doug. Do not despair : I feel a little faintness; I hope it will not last. [Leans upon his sword. Lady R. There is no hope
And we must part | The hand of death is on thee!
O my belovod child ! O Douglas, Douglas !
[Douglas growing more and more faint."
Doug. Too soon we part: I have not long been
O destiny hardly thou deal'st with me:
Clouded and hid, a stranger to myself,
In low and poor obscurity I've lived
Lady R. Has heaven preserved thee for an end like
Doug. Oh, had I fallen as my brave fathers fell,
Turning with fatal arm the tide of battle !
Like them I should have smiled and welcomed death;
But thus to perish by a villain's hand
Cut off from nature's and from glory's course,
Which never mortal was so fond to run
Lady R. Hear, justice, hear! are these the fruits
of virtue 2 [Doug LAs falls. Doug. Unknown I die; no tongue shall speak of Ine.
Some noble spirits, judging by themselves,
May yet conjecture what I might have proved,
And think life only wanting to my fame:
But who shall comfort thee 3
Lady R. Despair, despairl
po Oh, had it pleased high heaven to let me
A little while !—my eyes, that gaze on thee,
Grow dim apace l—my mother
Enter Lord RANDolph and ANNA.
Lord R. Thy words, thy words of truth have pierced my heart, I am the stain of knighthood and of arms. Oh! if my brave deliverer survives The traitor's sword Anna. Alas! look there, my lord.
Lord R. The mother and her son how curso I
Was I the cause? No: I was not the cause
Yon matchless villain did seduce my soul
To frantic jealousy.
Anna. My lady lives.
Lord R. But my deliverer's dead!
Lady R. [Recovering.] Where am I now? Still in
this wretched world ! .
Grief cannot break a heart so hard as mine.
Lord R. Oh, misery!
Amidst thy raging grief I must proclaim
Lady R. Thy innocence!
Lord R. My guilt
Is innocence compared with what thou think'st it.
Lady R. Of thee I think not: what have I to do:
With thee, or anything? My son my son!
My beautiful! my brave! how proud was I
Of thee, and of thy valour ! my fond heart
O'erflow'd this day with transport, when I thought
Of growing old amidst a race of thine.
A little while
Was I a wife a mother not so long !
What am I now —I know.—But I shall be
That only whilst I please; for such a son,
And such a husband, make a woman bold. [Runs out.
Lord R. Follow her, Anna: I myself would follow, But in this rage she must abhor my presence.
Cursed, cursed Glenalvon, he escaped too well,
Though slain and baffled by the hand he hated.
Foaming with rage and fury to the last,
Cursing his conqueror, the felon died
Anna. My lord my lord :
Lord R. Speak; I can hear of horror.