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Lady Rand. Eternal Providence! What is thy
name? Pris. My name is Norval; and my name he
bears. Lady Rand. 'Tis he; 'tis he himself! It is my
O, sovereign mercy! 'Twas my child I saw !—
Anna. Just are your transports: ne'er was woman's heart Proved with such fierce extremes. High-fated
But yet remember that you are beheld
heard. Lady Rand. Well dost thou counsel, Anna:
On me that wisdom which my state requires!
Pris. If I, amidst astonishment and fear, Have of your words and gestures rightly judged,
Thou art the daughter of my ancient master;
Lady Band. With thee dissimulation now were
I am indeed the daughter of Sir Malcolm;
Pris. Bless'd be the hour that made me a poor
man! My poverty hath saved my master's house!
Lady Rand. Thy words surprise me: sure thou
dost not feign!
The tear stands in thine eye: such love from thee
Pris. Sir Malcolm of our barons was the flower;
Lady Rand. His race shall yet reward thee.
On thy faith
Depends the fate of thy loved master's house.
Pris. I remember
Lady Rand. 'Tis that I mean: There dwells a man of venerable age, Who in my father's service spent his youth: Tell him I sent thee, and with him remain, Till I shall call upon thee to declare, Before the king and nobles, what thou now To me hast told. No more but this, and thou Shalt live in honour all thy future days; Thy son so long shall call thee father still, And all the land shall bless the man who saved The son of Douglas, and Sir Malcolm's heir. Remember well my words; if thou should'st meet Him whom thou call'st thy son, still call him so; And mention nothing of his nobler father.
Pris. Fear not that I shall mar so fair a harvest, By putting in my sickle ere 'tis ripe.
Why did I leave my home and ancient dame?
[Lady Randolph goes towards the Servants. Lady Rand. This man is not the assassin you
suspected, Though chance combined some likelihoods against
He is the faithful bearer of the jewels
Lady Randolph and Anna.
Lady Rand. My faithful Anna! dost thou
share my joy?
I know thou dost. Unparallel'd event!' ,
Reaching from heaven to earth, Jehovah's arm
Judge of the widow, and the orphan's father,
Accept a widow's and a mother's thanks
For such a gift!—What does my Anna think
Of the young eaglet of a valiant nest?
How soon he gazed on bright and burning arms,
Spurn'd the low dunghill where his fate had thrown
him, And tower'd up to the region of his sire!
Anna. How fondly did your eyes devour the
Mysterious nature, with the unseen cord
Supprest my fancy quite; nor did he owe
Anna. With wary caution you must bear yourself