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Lady Rand. She lives; but wastes her life in

constant woe, Weeping her husband slain, her infant lost.

Norv. You that are skill'd so well in the sad story Of my unhappy parents, and with tears Bewail their destiny, now have compassion Upon the offspring of the friends you loved. O! tell me who, and where my mother is? Oppress'd by a base world, perhaps she bends Beneath the weight of other ills than grief; And, desolate, implores of heaven the aid Her son should give. It is, it must be so— Your countenance confesses that she's wretched. O, tell me her condition! Can the sword— Who shall resist me in a parent's cause?

Lady Rand. Thy virtue ends her woes.—My

son! my son! I am thy mother, and the wife of Douglas!

[Fatts upon his neck. Norv. O heaven and earth, how wondrous is my

fate! Art thou my mother? Ever let me kneel!

Lady Rand. Image of Douglas! Fruit of fatal

love! All that I owe thy sire, I pay to thee.

Norv. Respect and admiration still possess me, Checking the love and fondness of a son: Yet I was filial to my humble parents. But did my sire surpass the rest of men, As thou excellest all of womankind?

Lady Rand. Arise, my son! In me thou dost

behold

The poor remains of beauty once admired:
The autumn of my days is come already;
For sorrow made my summer haste away.
Yet in my prime I equall'd not thy father:
His eyes were like the eagle's, yet sometimes
Liker the dove's; and, as he pleased, he won
All hearts with softness, or with spirit awed.

Norv. How did he fall? Sure 'twas a bloody

field When Douglas died. O! I have much to ask.

Lady Rand. Hereafter thou shalt hear the

lengthen'd tale

Of all thy father's and thy mother's woes.
At present this: Thou art the rightful heir
Of yonder castle, and the wide domains
Which now Lord Randolph, as my husband, holds.
But thou shalt not be wrong'd; I have the power
To right thce still: before the king I'll kneel,
And call Lord Douglas to protect his blood.

Norv. The blood of Douglas will protect itself.

Lady Rand. But we shall need both friends

and favour, boy,

To wrest the lands and lordship from the gripe Of Randolph and his kinsman. Yet I think My tale will move each gentle heart to pity; My life incline the virtuous to believe.

Norv. To be the son of Douglas is to me Inheritance enough. Declare my birth, And in the field I'll seek for fame and fortune.

Lady Rand. Thou dost not know what perils

and injustice

Await the poor man's valour. O, my son!
The noblest blood of all the land's abash'd,
Having no lackey but pale poverty.
Too long hast thou been thus attended, Douglas!
Too long hast thou been deem'd a peasant's child.
The wanton heir of some inglorious chief
Perhaps has scorn'd thee, in the youthful sports,
Whilst thy indignant spirit swell'd in vain!
Such contumely thou no more shalt bear:
But how I purpose to redress thy wrongs

Must be hereafter told. Prudence directs

That we should part before yon chiefs return.

Retire, and from thy rustic follower's hand

Receive a billet, which thy mother's care,

Anxious to see thee, dictated before

This casual opportunity arose

Of private conference. Its purport mark;

For, as I there appoint, we meet again.

Leave me, my son! and frame thy manners still

To Norval's, not to noble Douglas' state.

Norv. I will remember. Where is Norval now, That good old man?

Lady Rand. At hand conceal'd he lies, An useful witness. But beware, my son, Of yon Glenalvon; in his guilty breast Resides a villain's shrewdness, ever prone To false conjecture. He hath grieved my heart.

Norv. Has he, indeed?—Then let yon false

Glenalvon Beware of me. [Exit Douglas.

Manet Lady Randolph.

Lady Rand. There burst the smother'd flame!— O! thou all righteous and eternal King!

Who father of the fatherless art call'd,
Protect my sou! Thy inspiration, Lord!
Hath fill'd his bosom with that sacred fire,
Which in the breast of his forefathers burn'd:
Set him on high, like them, that he may shine
The star and glory of his native land!
Then let the minister of death descend,
And bear my willing spirit to its place.
Yonder they come.—How do bad women find
Unchanging aspects to conceal their guilt?
When I, by reason and by justice urged,
Full hardly can dissemble with these men
In nature's pious cause?

Enter Lord Randolph and Glenalvon.

Lord Band. Yon gallant chief,
Of arms enamour'd, all repose disclaims.

Lady Rand. Be not, my lord, by his example

sway'd;

Arrange the business of to-morrow now,
And, when you enter, speak of war no more.

[Exit Lady Randolph.

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