Lord Grey, Archbishop, Guards, Headsman, Robbers, Messenger, &c.

Madeleine Weir, grandchild of Sir Adam, Mrs. Stirling.
Widow Barton, niece to Sir Adam.......

Time, 1542.

Mrs. Charles Kean. 66 Dyott.

COSTUMES.

KING JAMES-First Dress: Arm-hole cloak, black velvet doublet and trunks lined with gold, black silk stockings and velvet shoes, large black hat and white feathers.- Second Dress-Green cloth over-shirt, sword and leather belt, and high dark riding boots, Scotch bonnet, short staff in hand.

LORDS.-The same style as the Kings's first dress, but the colors of dress different. SIR ADAM WEIR.-A black cloth suit of the same style as those of the nobles out

plainer, and trimmed with black velvet, white wig, and beard.

MALCOLM YOUNG.-First Dress: A gray cloth shirt, long black arm-hole cloak, something like a college gown, student's cap.-Second Dress: A handsome cavalier dress, after the same style as that of the lords.

LAIRD SMALL.-A plain, dark-colored doublet, and arm-hole cloak, a hood, and Scotch bonnet over it.

MUNGO. A brocade shirt, with very short smart arm-hole cloak, gay colors, very small hat, and cock's feather.

BUCKIE. -Same style as King's second dress, shepherd's plaid wound round. The last scene, a wolf's head cap, and large cloak. MADELEINE.-White watered silk trimmed with blue and cherry chequers, plaid scarf and veil.

WIDOW BARTON.--Grey cloth dress, trimmed with black velvet, point lace cap.

EXITS AND ENTRANCES.

R. means Right; L. Left: R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; S. E. Second Entrance; U. E. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle Door.

RELATIVE POSITIONS.

R., means Right; L., Left; C., Centre; R. C., Right of Centre; L. C., Left of Centre.

N.B. Passages marked with Inverted Commas, are usually omitted in the
representation.

ACT I.

SCENE I-Ante-Chamber at Holyrood.--MUNGO Small in attendance, and BUCKIE roughly dressed, are discovered.

THE KING OF THE COMMONS.

Buc. (R.) I pray you, let me to audience of the king. Mun. (L.) His majesty has not appeared to-day: I dare not call him.

Buc. Dare not call the king?

You wrong his fame. He scarce would turn away
A beggar from his gate--

Mun. And you, good friend?

Buc. Am not a beggar, save that I may see him. Mun. I trust 'tis joyous news you bring. The whip May pay you scurvily for woeful tidings.

Buc. How? Is the guerdon measured in such wise? Then he runs risk to hear few sober truths. Will it be long before the king comes forth?

Mun. Is't from the South you come? Nithsdale, they say,

Is filled with soldiers; old Caerlaverock groans
With the prodigious weight of metal guns
From Flanders.

Buc. Does it, Sir? I hope its groans Will move your pity to procure me hearing From gracious James.

Mun. "No, curse me if I do!

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Why, where the devil have you left your tongue? "Buc. Between my teeth, Sir: 'tis the safest place. "If you've a runaway horse, it's my advice

"To keep the stable shut.

"Mun. Oh! that's the advice?

Now, then, I'll give you my advice to match :

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"If you would see the king, let that same horse
"Of yours be civil; and not kick and bite,
"And look so cursed sulky." Get you gone;
King James is busy, with a dozen lords,
Some bishops, and his eminence.
Buc. Sir, I can wait.

Be off!

Mun. So much the better, Sir: You'll have a famous opportunity.

[Aside.] A close-mouthed hunks! Gad, if his news wero gold,

He could not be more sparing.

Buc. I'm as patient

As Job; and could change places with a milestone,
So little fond am I of moving.—Here

[Sitting R. C.

I sit; and all the ushers in the court,
And chamberlains, and chambermaids to boot,
Sha'n't move me, till I've seen our lord the king.
Mun. I'll beat about the bush no longer.-Hem!
Plump! what's your business?

Buc. Plump!-I will not tell you.
Mun. Then you sha'n't see him.
Buc. Then I shall !

Mun. Oh, will you ?—

The folding-doors fly open, c.-Enter JAMES, hurriedly, followed by Lords MAXWELL, CASSILIS, SETON, HUME, KILMAURS, GRAY, SOMERVILLE, the ARCHBISHOP, BISHOP, Ushers, &c.

James. He will not ?-but he must! Not send the men? Why, what a silken-souled, white-livered knave! What's his excuse?

Max. He's old-he's very old.

James. Old will he tremble in the chimney corner,
Counting his miserable years? How old?
Has he a hand left? Can he see and hear?
By heaven! he shall not cozen us with age!
If he's not with us on the Boroughmuir
With his whole house,-his vassals-every one—
He shall be seized for treason, if his age
Were counted by the century. Hark, my lords!
I know there's more than age in this excuse.
Max. Lord Bothwell is an agéd man.

James. Too old

To feel a Scotsman's blood stream at his heart!
I know, I know,-but, as I live by bread,
I'll show the sceptre's not a willow wand!
Trust me, 'twere wise in you to join my banner
With every spear you have. We've winked too long,
But we have not been blind.
Max. My gracious lord,
Banish these harsh thoughts of your noble peers,
And listen to our humble suit.

James. Oh! humble,

Your humble suit,-now, curse on humble suits,
Urged with false tongues! I'd rather have rough words
Ay! though against ourself, from the bold heart,
Than these same humble suits. What is your suit?
Max. That you would pause, ere you advance your ban-

ner

Against the English king, your loving kinsman.
James. There spoke the recreant Scot!

The English

king,

God pardon me! I think, is king of Scots.
My lords-my lords! this is no time to pause;
Our loving kinsman is our deadliest foe,
Plucking our wreathéd honours, one by one,
Not in brave fight, but slily, stealthily,-
Turning our nobles into gilded slaves,
And stripping this poor crown of all it had,
Not gold and jewels-they may go, and welcome,—
But honour and the allegiance of true hearts,
That were its glory through three hundred years.
I looked not for it-I thought better things.
[A pause the nobles look disconcerted.

If I had heard a man two years agone,
Say that the Scottish nobles would desert
Their king, when England dared them to come on,
I would have slain him as a slanderous liar;-

But now!

[Goes up abruptly

Somer. [To a Bishop.] Your lordship is a man of peace; Speak to the king.

Bishop. (L.) What can I say to him?
Somer. Tell him to spare his people.
Bishop. Ah, my lord!

I need not tell king James to spare his people;
They know he loves them.

Somer. But he'll spill their blood.

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Bishop. Better to spill their blood than lose their souls Oh, there be times and causes, good my lords! "When the white Christian dove must seek her nest, "And leave the murky clouds to be cleft through "By the strong pinioned eagle." There be times When Piety herself must gird the sword, And meek Religion, like an Amazon, Dart her fierce glances over fields of war.

James. [Advancing, R.] Well spoken, good Lord Bishop! if the fire

That warms your heart, gave but its sacred heat
To other bosoms, there might yet be hope
For me-and Scotland!

"Kil. There was fire enough

"In Scottish hearts, that now are chilled." James." Now hear me

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There shall no Douglas trample on this land,
While there's a Stuart to defend his people.
"Where is the Douglas now? In Surrey's ranks,
"Feeding on England's offals; nursing scaith
"To all our realm; hounding the tyrant on,
"The blustering braggart Henry; let them go !"
Scotland can face all Tudors on the earth,
And all the Douglases to boot!
Somer. "Twere wise

To see your royal uncle.

James, What to hear?

His threats, and worse than threats-his patronage ?
As if we stooped our sovran crown, or held it
As vassa! from the greatest king alive.

No; we are poor-I know we are poor, my lords;
Our realm is but a niggard in its soil,

And the fat fields of England wave their crops
In richer dalliance with the autumn winds,

Than our bleak plains; but from our rugged dells,
Springs a far richer harvest-gallant hearts,

Stout hands, and courage that would think foul scorn
To quail before the face of mortal man.
We are our people's king. For you, my lords,