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Are heaped for other uses than to lend
To needy lords, or riotous young heirs.

James. What is't you mean ? You speak in parables.

Buc. He pays a stipend-month by month he pays itBy order sent from England, “ signed by Bowes,' To knights and nobles that take daily stand Around

your

throne. James. What nobles and what knights ? But, no-I will not know their names. A stipendA monthly bribe ! To bend their necks so low ! I would not hear their names. If it were Hume ! Or Seton ! No, no, no-it cannot be ! Ha! a base bribe ; a mean, false, cringing crew! Tell me no name! I'd make them rue the hour They sold our Scottish honour for their bribesBut—is it true ?-Seizes him by the collar.] “ Dog ! if you

tell me false, " I'll brain you on the wall !" Who told

you

this ? Where lives this Weir ? How got you this advice?

Buc. He lives at Laichmont, near to Calder, Sire.

James. I'll see him. From his heart I'll tear the truth. Thanks, friend. 'Twas kindly meant: but, by my soul, I wish this thing had not been told to me, That I had thought them fickle, wilful, cold, Cowards--ay, cowards—anything but this. Thanks : I will see you soon. Take this, and this.

[Gives his ring and purse. Say naught of what you've told me. I will ride To Lalchmont House this hour,-this very hour. Oh, if 'tis true : if they're the very slaves To live on foreign bribes—there shall be blood Shall make the High Street run as if with wine ! Good day, my friend—be silent-and farewell. (Exit, c

Buc. He rides alone-he must not ride alone; He's worth the whole of the nobles in a bunch. I'll be his guard, if no one else will.

Mun. (Re-entering, R.] Well ? What said the King ?

Buc. That if an impudent fellow
Asked any questions, I must tell him-

Mun.- What ?
I knew you'd tell me.

Buc. That he was an ass, And should keep all his breath to cool his porridge. (Exit. Mun. Breath!-porridge !-in your teeth, you_saucy knave!

(Exit, c.

But now

SCENE II,-A Wood in Laichmont.

Enter MADELEINE and MALCOLM, R. Made. This way it flew. Come, Malcolm ; see how

high It soars, as if 'twere weary of the world, And wished to have a home far up in heaven !

Malcolm. Ah, 'twere a happy bird to win such place, And never sink to rugged earth again !

Made. Oh, for a hawk, full summed and high of soar, To follow it into the filmy clouds And bring it to our feat. But, well-a-day! We have no hawking now. Five years since, Malcolm, Ere you went to St. Andrew's, how we loved To watch the quarry as it rose and rose, And our strong falcon after it ! We are so dull and listless.—You've forgotten The manege of the lure. I do not think You could unstrike the jesses for your life.

Mal. I wish I could as easily unstrike The strings that keep my memories in hood, And let them down the wind.

Made. And think no more
Of the

gay
time we had when we were young

?
When we were all alone with cousin Barton ?
When Grandsire was away in foreign climes,
Far o'er the sea, and we rode forth and hawked,
And laughed all day. Would you forget them, Malcolm ?

Mal. I wish I could, my gentle Madeleine, “For these bright clouds come up like sinful visions, Conjured by magic to distract the souls "Of solitary men, in lightless caves, « Retired io commune with their own sad hearts.

Made. But, Malcolm, then your heart was never sad; You were the boldest horseman, sped your arrow Straighter than all, rode deftliest at the ring, And sang the gayest. Wherefore are you changed ?

Mal. You know the reason, thoughtless Madeleine ! Made. I don't : I see you're changed. I know not why.

Mal. Know you not I have felt the chilling hand Of the Archbishop ?

Made. And that saddens you ? Dear Malcolm, do not mind

my

heedless talk, I would not make you sad for all the world.

She holds out her hand, Mal. Would you not ? But-I may

not take

your

hand. Made. Why not, dear Malcolm ? Take my hand, I

pray you. Mal. No.

Made. Malcolm, you are not offended with me ?
I did not mean to vex you. Oh, forgive me !
I cannot bear to see you look so sad.
Will you not take my hand ?
Mal. What! take your

hand ?
I would-oh, Heavens-no! I'll not take your hand.

Made. And we grew up together !—and at last
You're angry

with me tell me, tell me why?
Oh! I'll do anything to please you, Malcolm;
Just take my hand, and say that you forgive me!
Mal. Madeleine, if I were to touch your

handIf-but-I tell you-no, no, never more !

(He covers his face with his hands. Enter James, L., disguised in a common travelling dress,

resisting robbers. Rob. Down with him!

Jamés. Easier said than done, my friend!
What, ho !

Made. Help! help!
Mal. (Rushing forward with his staf.] What! five on

one! Down, dogs! And you—and you

(The robbers are beaten off. James. All gone-all gone ! i'faith, 'Tis pleasant after-dinner exercise ; And you, brave sir-I thank

you
from

my
'Twas nobly done-by'r lady-and a youth!
Let the knaves go ; they did not fight amiss.

Mal. You are not hurt, sir?
James. But a bump or so

heart ;

On the tough head; 'tis used to such small coin.
One fellow came behind me with a staff,
Before I saw him. Let me thank you again,
For timely aid. I would I knew your name,
That I might name it in my prayers to-night.

Mal. My name is Malcolm Young, commendator
Of the St. Andrew's Church, a distant kinsman
To the owner of this ground, Sir Adam Weir.
This is Sir Adam Weir's, of Laichmont Grange.

James. Sir Adam Weir-a worthy gentleman.
I feel my wound is heavier than I thought:
Might I make trespass for an hour or two
On his kind nature ?

Mal. This, sir, is his grandchild,
She'll bid you welcome to her kinsman's house.

James. Madam. I am a stranger in these parts,
Or surely I should, long ere this, have heard
The praises of a face so fair as yours.
Mude. (In alarm.] Oh, sir, waste not the time in com-

plimentPray you, come to the house. My cousin, sir, Is skilled in liniments. Support him, Malcolm.

Mal. Lean on my arm.

James. I've felt its worth before ;
I hope to pay you for't some other time.

(Exeunt, L., Malcolm supporting King James. SCENE III.--A Parlour in Laichmont House. SIR ADAM WEIR and WIDOW BARTON discovered.--Sir

Adam at a table, L. C., is busy arranging a packet.Widow Barton seated, R. C., has a small pestle and mortar on her knee. Sir A. “ A mess

ssenger-a faithful messenger.
“ Malcolm-he is my kinsman, and a priest;
" This Mungo-he's a courtier and a fool ;
“ If Dacre knew the risk he lays on me
“ In traffic with these Lords, he scarce would grudge

Name, rank, all that I claim, to pay the peril.
If I can get these missives to the lords,
And stay this war-by the persuasive tones
Of English crowns ! The risk !--the risk !-this day

A messenger must be found, -or dow'n goes all
The fabric I have raised,

-James will draw sword
And I-but tis too horrible to think on't. Comes forward.

Widow. I warrant, now, my uncle has some planSome herb, now, with a crabbed Latin nameTo mix with this discoction.--He's so glum! I think I'll ask him.-Uncle ! Good Sir Adam ! [Rises.

Sir A. Ha !-oh ! 'tis only you—I'm busy, niece. Where is your cousin ?—where's my Madeleine ?

Widow. I thought 'twould be about his Madeleine !
She's gone out for an hour with Malcolm Young.

Sir A. Good ! I would have her hold his company
As oft as may be. He is stored with learning,
And may enrich her mind—a studious youth.
Tell her, when she returns, I wish to see her.

Widow. It's always so. These wondrous clever people Are all alike. And as for Madeleine, They'll spoil her: I'm quite sure they'll spoil the girl With their fine learning. I never saw any good Come of such things. “ I never knew a word Of any tongue but good, plain, honest Scots, “Nor read a book, nor wrote a single line, " And I've done very well. I wish the girl

May do as well, with all her French and Spanish”
Sir Adam, know you what it is o'clock ?
The laird will soon be here.

Sir A. I shall be ready
To give him welcome.

Widow. Is the laird a scholar ?

Sir A. I do not think he is. He never aimed At scholarship.

Widow. Indeed ? so much the betterNor I.

Sir A. What, did you never ?

Widow, Never aimed
At scholarship; but I'll get ready now
To see the laird.

Erit, B.
Sir A. And yet she was the wife-
This silly, talking, thoughtless, empty thing-
Of a brave mana gentleman-as wise
And deep in counsel, as was e'er a man
Of Scottish blood; ay, and he loved her too,

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