Bishop. Guard well the prisoner. [Exit Attendant, L.]
Ön the eve of war

To leave his foes unwatched-his very camp
A scene of treason; but I've laid my hand
On every loop in the net. 'Tis like the king-
Some playful hiding in a burgher suit-

I thought he had been sobered. That's his step.

Enter JAMES, L.

James. Ha! my good lord-but we're unfitly geared For shrift and penance; we have rid for the life Up hill-down dale.

But you look big with care.

Out with it; "it will burst you."

66

Bishop. It befits

"Neither my years nor my great calling, Sir,

"Nor the meek spirit that should harbour here, "To mix in the fierce struggles in a court.

"James. I know you well. Excuse me, good my Lord,

"If, with the flippant quickness of the tongue,
"I hide the respect and deep reverence,

"Which my heart bears to the right reverend virtues
"Of meekness, truth, and most sweet gentleness,
"I've ever found in you."

Bishop. Ah, Sir! I'm old

It may be that my time is nearly done

But I would fain, even to the end of my life,
Bear you true service; for I've mark'd in you
Ever, from boyish days, a loving heart-
Loving, though fiery; and most merciful-
Too merciful!

"James. Nay; not so, my good Lord.

"Ill fares it with kings' swords when the sharp blade "Shines oftener in the subject's dazzled eyes,

"Than the pearl-studded heft and jewell'd sheath.

66

Bishop. There may be times when the steel blade is all

"That gives true value to the jewelled sheath."

James. How mean you? You were my preceptor, SirMost kind-most wise: but you have told me often I lack'd the bridle, not the spur.

Bishop. The bridle,

In your wild course of dalliance and deray;

The spur, in action fitting for a king.

James. Not so-by Heaven! not so. Show me the deed You'd have me do that's fitting for a king,

And, though it tore the softest string i' my heart,
I'll do it.

Bishop. Prepare you, then!

James. What is't, I say?

[Crosses to R.

You think I have no higher, nobler thoughts,
Than suit a pageant king on silken throne?
My lord, you know me not.

Bishop. What would you do

If treachery

James. Pah! you know of treachery, too. Fear not, my Lord-I'm glad 'twas only that!

Whew!-my mind's easy now. Why, my good Lord, I thought 't had been some terribler thing than that. Bishop. Than what, my liege?

James. You'll see- -you'll see; fear not.

I tell you a king's eye can see as clear
As a good bishop's. Ere three hours are fled,
There will be proof. Come to our court at nine;
You'll see some action then that fits a king;

And, as you go, send me Lord Seton.

Bishop. Seton!

No; save in keeping of the guard.

James. My Lord,

Say that again: perhaps I heard not right.

I told you to send Seton-my friend Seton-
Lord Seton-and you answered something.

What?

Bishop. That he's the traitor I would warn you of.
James. Seton a traitor? Seton, that I've loved
Since we were boys! Ho! Seton !-Rest you, Sir;
You shall avouch this thing.-Seton! ho! Seton!
Bishop. My liege, I've proofs.

James. What say you ?-proofs ?
Bish. Ay, proofs,

Clearer than sunlight.

Enter ATTENDANT, L.

James. With dignity.] Take our greeting, Sir,

To the Lord Seton-we would see him here.

[Exit Attendant, R.

Proofs ! anl of Seton's guilt! Can it be so?
He was my friend-from five years old- -so high;
We'd the same masters, played at the same games-
Coits-golf. Fool! fool! to think that anything
Can bind a heart. I thought his heart was mine,
His love-his life-and to desert me now! [Crosses to L.
Viper! He shall not live to laugh at me-

At the poor king that trusted. Viper-dog!

My Lord, this thing you say is full of proof?
Bishop. Ay, Sir. Be firm.

James. Firm! There's no tyrant king

That flung men's hearts to feed the beasts i' the circus; That tore men's limbs with horses for their sport;

That sent men to the tigers, and looked on

To see them quivering in the monster's claws,
Was half so firm-so pitiless!

You're here!

Enter SETON, R.

Seton. Welcome, kind liege, to Holyrood again!
James. Back-back-keep off me! We're your king,
Lord Seton !

We will be just-we were in anger late.

We're calm.-Though it should burst my heart in twain, I will be calm. [Aside.]

Seton. My liege, what means this change?

I am not used to hear so harsh a voice

From my kind master-from my friend!

James. Not that!

By heaven, we're friend to not a man on earth!
No-never more!

Seton. You are unjust to me.

You wrong me-oh, you wrong me, Sir!

James. Aside. Oh, heaven!

That I should hear a traitor borrow thus

John Seton's voice, and look through Seton's eyes!

Now, then, my lord; what say you of this man?

Bishop. That he deceives you.

Seton. I you false-tongued-but,

Forgive me my rough speech; you wear a garb
That checks my tongue.

James. In what does he deceive?

Where's Lord Hume?

Bishop. He and Lord Hume

James. What! he, too?

Bishop. I blame not him, my liege!

James. No. 'Is he true?

Send me Lord Hume: I'd see at least one man

That keeps his faith!

Seton. My liege, I know not yet

What charge the good Lord Bishop brings against me: But, if 'tis breach of faith, of love to you,

I will not say he lies—but it is false.

James. Say on-say on; be sure your proof is strong; For this is such an hour, I would not live it,

For all the wealth of earth. Quick! Have it o'er! Bishop. You bear command, Lord Seton, of the host ? James. He does!

Bishop. And yet you entertain advice

With English Dacre. Nay, deny it not;
I've seen the messenger in close discourse
At night, within your tent. I know his errand,
For I have trusty watchers in the camp.

James. Do you deny this?

Seton. I cannot deny

James. Villain! you can't deny! Oh, shame-oh,

shame!

Where will you hide you? But go on-we're calm.
Bishop. His errand was to offer you great sums

Of English gold.

James. Was this his errand?

Seton, Yes.

James. And your base coward sword sprung not at once Forth from the sheath? You did not slay the man?

Seton. No!

Bishop. And he sent a message back to Dacre, And gave the envoy passage, and safe conduct. James. Is all this true ?-Oh Seton, say the word, One little word-tell me it is not true!

Seton. My liege, 'tis true.

James. Then by the name we bear,

You die!-a traitor's death! [Crosses, R.]

guard.

I will not look again to where he stands.

Sirrah! the

Enter GUARD, R.: they stand by SETON, L. c.

Let him be taken hence-and let the axe
Rid me of- -Seton! is it so in truth,

That you've deceived me—joined my enemies?
You-you-my friend-my playmate !-is it so ?
Sir, will you tell me wherein I have failed
In friendship to the man that was my friend?
I thought I loved you--that in all my heart
Dwelt not a thought that wronged you.
Seton. You have heard

What my accuser says, and you condemn me-
I say no word to save a forfeit life-

A life is not worth having, when't has lost
All that gave value to it-my sovereign's trust!
James, [to the Bishop.] You see this man, Sir-he's the
self-same age

That I am. We were children both together—
We grew-we read in the same book—my lord,
You must remember that ?-how we were never
Separate from each other; well, this man
Lived with me, year by year; he counselled me,
Cheered me, sustained me-he was as myself-
The very throne that is to other kings

A desolate island rising in the sea—
A pinnacle of power, in solitude,

Grew to a seat of pleasance in his trust.

my life

The sea, that chafed all round it with its waves,
This man bridged over with his love, and made it
A highway for our subjects' happiness-
And now! for a few pieces of red gold
He leaves me. Oh, he might have coined
Into base ingots-stript me of it all—
If he had left me faith in one true heart,
And I should ne'er have grudged him the exchange.
[Crosses, R.
Go, now. We speak your doom-you die the death!
God pardon you! I dare not pardon you—

Farewell.

Seton. I ask no pardon, Sir, from you.
May you find pardon-ay, in your own heart,
For what you do this day!