I am the stain of knighthood and of arms. Oh! if my brave deliverer survives The traitor's sword Anna. Alas! look there, my lord. 700 Lord R. The mother and her son! How curst I am! Was I the cause? No: I was not the cause. Yon matchless villain did seduce my soul To frantic jealousy. Anna. My lady lives: The agony of grief hath but suppress'd Lord R. But my deliverer's dead; "The world did once esteem lord Randolph well, "Now past the noon of life, shame comes upon me; "Reproach, and infamy, and public hate, "Are near at hand: for all mankind will think "That Randolph basely stabb'd Sir Malcolm's heir.” Lady R. [Recovering.] Where am I now? Still in this wretched world! Grief cannot break a heart so hard as mine. "My youth was worn in anguish: but youth's strength, "With hope's assistance, bore the brunt of sorrow; "And train'd me on to be the object now, "On which Omnipotence displays itself, "Making a spectacle, a tale of me, "To awe it's vassal, man.' Lord R. Oh, misery! Amidst thy raging grief I must proclaim My innocence. Lady R. Thy innocence ! Lord R. My guilt 730 Is innocence compar'd with what thou think'st it. Who might make up to me their father's childhood, What am I now ?-I know.-But I shall be And such a husband drive me to my fate. [Runs out. Enter Old NORVAL. [Exit ANNA. Old Nor. I heard the voice of woe: Heaven guard my child! Lord R. Already is the idle gaping crowd, The spiteful vulgar, come to gaze on Randolph. Old Nor. I fear thee not. I will not go. 750 With thee in murder. Yes, my sins did help These are the hairs that should have strew'd the ground, And not the locks of Douglas. [Tears his hair, and throws himself upon the body of Douglas. Lord R. I know thee now: "thy boldness I forgive: "My crest is fallen." For thee I will appoint A place of rest, if grief will let thee rest. I will reward, altho' I cannot punish. Curs'd, curs'd Glenalvon, he escap'd too well, Tho' slain and baffled by the hand he hated. Foaming with rage and fury to the last, Cursing his conqueror, the felon died. Enter ANNA. Anna. My lord! My lord! Lord R. Speak: I can hear of horror. Anna. Horror, indeed! Lord R. Matilda ? 770 Anna. Is no more: She ran, she flew like lightning up the hill, Lord R. 'Twas I alas! 'twas I That fill'd her breast with fury; drove her down 780 Anna. Oh, had you seen her last despairing look! Upon the brink she stood, and cast her eyes Down on the deep: then lifting up her head And her white hands to Heaven, seeming to say, Why am I forc'd to this? she plung'd herself Into the empty air. Lord R. I will not vent, In vain complaints, the passion of my soul. These wounds the gratitude of Randolph gave ; For Randolph hopes he never shall return. [Exeunt. EPILOGUE. AN Epilogue I ask'd; but not one word Our bard will write. He vows 'tis most absurd Of tragedy and make your sorrows vain. And noblest passion of the human breast: |