Of venal statesmen, shall recall my name That haunt your court, could none be found but Warwick K. Edw. And wouldst thou turn the vile reproach on me? If I have broke my faith, and stain'd the name Of England, thank thy own pernicious counsels That urg'd me to it, and extorted from me A cold consent to what my heart abhorr❜d. War. I've been abus'd, insulted, and betray'd; My injur'd honour cries aloud for vengeance; Her wounds will never close! K. Edw. These gusts of passion Will but inflame them; if I have been right War. Elizabeth! K. Edw. Nay, start not, I have cause War. And so have I; Too well I know thy breach of friendship there; K. Edw. I scorn it, sir; Elizabeth hath charms, So all-commanding in the name of Warwick, War. By heav'n! 'tis false; You knew it all, and meanly took occasion, A treasure which your kingdom could not purchase. I had a right, nor will I tamely yield My claim to happiness, the privilege To choose the partner of my throne and bed: It is a branch of my prerogative. War. Prerogative! what's that? the boast of tyrants: A borrow'd jewel, glitt'ring in the crown With specious lustre, lent but to betray; K. Edw. And therefore do I prize it; I would guard War. Go to your darling people, then; for soon, Their boasted zeal, and see if one of them K. Edw. Is it so, my lord? Then mark my words: I've been your slave too long, But henceforth know, proud peer, I am thy master, War. Look well, then, to your own; It sits but loosely on your head; for know, K. Edw. Nor he who threaten'd Edward: Enter GUARDS. War. Slaves, stand off; If I must yield my sword, I'll give it him K. Edw. Hence: away with him. War. 'Tis well: Exert your pow'r, it may not last you long; For know, though Edward may forget his friend, That England will not. Now, sir, I attend you. [Exit the KING, R. [Exeunt WARWICK and GUARDS, L. 13.-NORVAL AND GLENALVON. THE REV. JOHN HOME. John Home was born in Roxburghshire in 1724. He was educated for the Church, but in the rebellion of 1745, entered the Royal army, and was taken prisoner at the battle of Falkirk. He contrived to escape, and was ordained minister of Athelstaneford, in East Lothian, 1750. His tragedy of "Douglas" was performed with great success in Edinburgh; but the fact of a clergyman writing a play at all so offended the presbytery, that he was compelled to resign his living. He died, aged 85, 1808.] Glenalvon. His port I love: he's in a proper mood Norval. The setting sun With yellow radiance lighten'd all the vale; Glen. Thou talk'st it well: no leader of our host Norv. If I should e'er acquire a leader's name, Now prompts my tongue, and youthful admiration Of praise pertaining to the great in arms. [Aside. 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. Else they will hardly brook your late sprung power, Norv. Sir, I have been accustom'd all my days Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel, Glen. I did not mean To gall your pride, which I now see is great. Glen. Suppress it, as you wish to prosper. Glen. Yes! if you presume To bend on soldiers these disdainful eyes, As if you took the measure of their minds, Norv. Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self? Norv. Didst thou not hear? Glen. Unwillingly I did: a nobler foe Had not been question'd thus; but such as thee- Glen. Norval. Norv. So I am- And who is Norval in Glenalvon's eyes? Glen. A peasant's son, a wandering beggar boy; Norv. False as thou art, dost thou suspect my truth? have no tongue to rail. The humble Norval Is of a race who strive not but with deeds. Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valour And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword, I'd tell thee-what thou art; I know thee well. Glen. Dost thou not know Glenalvon, born to command Ten thousand slaves like thee ? Norv. Villain, no more. Draw and defend thy life. I did design To have defied thee in another cause: But heaven accelerates its vengeance on thee. Now for my own and Lady Randolph's wrongs! Norv. Another voice than thine That threat had vainly sounded, noble Randolph. Glen. Hear him, my lord, he's wondrous condescending: Mark the humility of Shepherd Norval! Norv. Now you may scoff in safety. Taunting each other; but unfold to me [Sheathes his sword. The cause of quarrel; then I judge betwixt you. Norv. Nay, my good lord, though I revere you much, My cause I plead not, nor demand your judgment. I blush to speak, I will not, cannot speak The opprobrious words that I from him have borne. 1 If my free speech offend you, noble Randolph, Hence as he came, alone, but not dishonour'd! Lord Ran. Thus far I'll mediate with impartial voice,— The ancient foe of Caledonia's land Now waves his banner o'er her frighted fields. Suspend your purpose, till your country's arms The private quarrel. Glen. I agree to this. Norv. And I. Let not our variance mar the social hour; Shall stain my countenance. Smooth thou thy brow, Norv. Think not so lightly, sir, of my resentment: 14.-SCENE FROM THE IRON CHEST. GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER. [George Colman, the younger, was born 1762, and died 1836. He was the author of twenty-six plays, including "John Bull," "The Iron Chest," and "Bluebeard;" also of several volumes of comic verse. Towards the end of his career he held the office of licenser and examiner of plays.] Sir E. Wilford, approach me.-What am I to say Wilf. Sir E. I! Oh, sir! For I am singled from the herd of men, A vile, heart-broken wretch! Wilf. You must; Indeed, indeed, sir, You deeply wrong yourself. Your equal's love, The poor man's prayer, the orphan's tear of gratitude, I am most bound to bless you. Sir E. Mark me, Wilford : I know the value of the orphan's tear, The poor man's prayer, respect from the respected; to taste here below that thrilling cordial |