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For let her seem, like the night's shadowy queen, Cold and contemplative—he cannot trust her: She may, she will, bring shame and sorrow on him; The worst of sorrows, and the worst of shames!

Glen, Yield not, my lord, to such afflicting

thoughts;

But let the spirit of a husband sleep,
Till your own senses make a sure conclusion.
This billet must to blooming Norval go:
At the next turn awaits my trusty spy;
I'll give it him refitted for his master.
In the close thicket take your secret stand;
The moon shines bright, and your own eyes may

judge
Of their behaviour.

Lord Rand. Thou dost counsel well.

Glen. Permit me now to make one slight essay. Of all the trophies which vain mortals boast, By wit, by valour, or by wisdom won, The first and fairest, in a young man's eye, Is woman's captive heart. Successful love With glorious fumes intoxicates the mind! And the proud conqueror in triumph moves, Air-borne, exalted above vulgar men.

t

Lord Rand. And what avails this maxim?

Glen. Much, my lord.

Withdraw a little: I'll accost young Norval,
And with ironical derisive counsel
Explore his spirit. If he is no more
Than humble Norval, by thy favour raised,
Brave as he is, he'll shrink astonish'd from me:
But if he be the fav'rite of the fair,
Loved by the first of Caledonia's dames,
He'll turn upon me, as the lion turns
Upon the hunter's spear.

Lord Rand. Tis shrewdly thought.

Glen. When we grow loud, draw near. But let

my lord His rising wrath restrain. \Exit Randolph.

Manet Glenalvon.

Glen. 'Tis strange, by heaven! That she should run full tilt her fond career, To one so little known. She too that seem'd Pure as the winter stream, when ice emboss'd Whitens its course. Even I did think her chaste, Whose charity exceeds not. Precious sex! Whose deeds lascivious pass Glenalvon's thoughts! Enter Norval.

His port I love; he's in a proper mood

To chide the thunder, if at him it roar'd. [Aside.

Has Norval seen the troops?

Norv. The setting sun With yellow radiance lighten'd all the vale; And as the warriors moved, each polish'd helm, Corslet or spear, glanced back his gilded beams. The hill they climbed, and halting at its top, Of more than mortal size, towering, they seenVd A host angelic, clad in burning arms.

Glen. Thou talk'st it well; no leader of our host In sounds more lofty speaks of glorious war.

Norv. If I shall e'er acquire a leader's name, My speech will be less ardent. Novelty Now prompts my tongue, and youthful admiration Vents itself freely; since no part is mine Of praise pertaining to the great in arms.

Glen. You wrong yourself, brave sir; your martial deeds Have rank'd you with the great: But mark me,

Norval;

Lord Randolph's favour now exalts your youth Above his veterans of famous service:

Let me, who know these soldiers, counsel you: Give them all honour; seem not to command; Else they will scarcely brook your late-sprungpower, Which nor alliance' props, nor birth adorns.

Norv. Sir, I have been accustom'd all my days To hear and speak the plain and simple truth: And though I have been told that there are men Who borrow friendship's tongue to speak their

scorn,

Yet in such language I am little skill'd. .
Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel,
Although it sounded harshly. Why remind
Me of my birth obscure? Why slur my power
With such contemptuous terms?

Glen. I did not mean
To gall your pride, which now I see is great.

Norv. My pride!

Glen. Suppress it as you wish to prosper: Your pride's excessive. Yet, for Randolph's sake, I will not leave you to its rash Direction: If thus you swell, and frown at high-born men, Will high-born men endure a shepherd's scorn?

Norv. A shepherd's scorn!

Glen. Yes. If you presume
To bend on soldiers these disdainful eyes,
As if you took the measure of their minds,
And said in secret, you're no match for me !—
What will become of you?

Norv. If this were told !— [Aside.

Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self?

Glen. Ha! Dost thou threaten me?

Norv. Didst thou not hear?

Glen. Unwillingly I did; a nobler foe Had not been question'd thus. But such as thee—

Norv. Whom dost thou think me?

Glen. Norval.

Norv. So I am—
And who is Norval in Glenalvon's eyes?

Glen. A peasant's son, a wand'ring beggar-boy; At best no more, even if he speaks the truth.

Norv. False as thou art, dost thou suspect my truth?

Glen. Thy truth! Thou'rt all a lie; and false

as hell Is the vain-glorious tale thou told'st to Randolph.

Norv. If I were chain'd, unarm'd, and bed-rid

old,

Perhaps I should revile: But as I am,
I have no tongue to rail. The humble Norval
Is of a race who strive not but with deeds.

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