Part 2 / Act 5 — SCENE II.

The Press Moor.

Enter Irish Troopers with Ambrose Carmichael.

FIRST TROOPER.

By the blood of St Patrick, my ould fellow! where have those stray sheep gone? Arrah! now, if thou misleadest us, boy, by the souls of the thousand saints who 189danced on the point of a needle! Arrah! I say, boy, if thou misleadest us, we shall put ourselves right by hanging thee on the first tree we meet with in this bare rascally country, where no trees are to be found.

AMBROSE.

For once in my life I shall speak truth; my grandam always said it stood longest; and no wonder, seeing it stands upon two legs, while falsehood may not balance itself upon one. If we go much farther we shall meet some of Dunbar’s troopers. We must cross the Moor of Aldcamus; for I guess their path lies by the windings of the Pease.

SECOND TROOPER.

Marry, ould boy! if we take the right path of your directions, we will assuredly go wrong; so, to go right, we will take the road before us. We proceed onwards to yon hovel where the blue smoke rises.

AMBROSE.

If you won’t believe my veracity, believe the vision of your own eyes, and behold yonder white forms gliding among the green trees. If I speak false, duck me as a witch in Coldingham Loch.

FIRST TROOPER.

We do believe our ogles, by the powers! and are off like a shot.

[While they are absent, Ambrose makes his escape.

They return with Maggy, Ambrose’s Wife.

190 MAGGY.

If your mother was a woman, spare me, good gentlemen! My lady has taken the path of Pease; and, forsooth, because I could not keep up with their hard trot and gallop they left me behind.

SECOND TROOPER.

I suppose, ould one, your bulky hinder-parts were not made for a horse’s back.

MAGGY.

Surely not, good sirs! the town-fiddler’s wife cannot ride like a lady. I slipt over the mare’s tail, and there they left me. Oh, Ambrose! we have driven our hogs to a bad market!

FIRST TROOPER.

Well, my good crature! since your husband is a notable liar, and has just escaped from Murphy Slabberdash, by the powers! we keep the path onwards, and bind thee to the trunk of the first shadow of a tree we meet with, till we return, if we e’er return. [Exeunt.

191 SCENE III.

The Hostel of Aldcamus.

Friars sitting drinking, Aubery, &c.

FIRST FRIAR.

Come, drink and make merry, my masters! it is not every gale that wafts us a young friar with a purse, and a soldier with a song.

SECOND FRIAR.

Why dost thou not sing, thou comely anchorite, with the cowl nailed to your head? Surely thou mayest doff it out of courtesy to our order?

YOUNG FRIAR.

Beshrew me, friend! it is not from want of reverence to those to whom reverence is due, that makes me wear the cowl; but I have a disagreeable ache in my head from an accidental sore; I shall, however, sing as well as I can to please my kind brethren. [Sings.

Weep not, because the patriot’s sword

Awhile is sheath’d in sadness;

That sword will from its scabbard leap

To trumpet notes of gladness,

When he who forges freemen’s chains,

This earth no more shall cumber,

When blood that sleeps in freemen’s veins

Shall wake no more to slumber.

192It is but the fragment of a song; but you must take the will for the deed.

FIRST FRIAR.

Well sung, young one! but very mournful. Come, soldier! free of speech, give us a song, and let it speak to the occasion. I can give a joke, and take a joke in good fellowship. Let the song be trite and terse with a little of the nutmeg.

SECOND FRIAR.

No! no! let the song be modest. True humour looks best in a natural dress. Strike up, my boon companion!

AUBERY.

I can’t sing, but I will give you a rant, while my friend seeks relief in a short repose. Gudewife, see to the lady—to the friar I mean. [Sings.

Song.

Tune,—Kenmuir’s on, and awa, Willie.

CHORUS.

I redd you beware o’ Friar Adam, gudeman;

I redd you beware o’ Friar Adam, gudeman;

He’s first at a feast, but he’s last at the cann—

I redd you beware o’ Friar Adam, gudeman.

The gudewife can bake, and the gudewife can brew,

Can dress up her board with the famed barbecue;

Can eke out a table where bishops may dine,

And baffle the drawer wi’ hamen-made wine.

193The gudewife on Sundays is bonny I trow,

Her golden-laced bonnet sits light on her brow;

In her fine furred cloak at the preachings she’s seen,

And looks like Diana in mantle o’ green.

Friar Adam is learned in Latin and Greek,

With his eyes and his fingers he also can speak;

’Tis whisper’d, the priest has a magical e’e,

And kens the black art that’s taught over the sea.

Mine host and the baxter grew bright o’er the cann,

Till they first miss’d the gudewife, then Friar Adam;

The quegh being empty, for liquor they bawl,

But nothing but echo replies to their call.

They sought for our Friar by the windings of Tweed,

Where they found him laid low like a wind-shaken reed;

They found him, O beastly! asleep, sitting squat,

Enjoying the dream of a Cardinal’s hat.

They search’d for the gudewife by thicket and loan,

Till they found the gay lady a-making her moan;

While milking her quey, popp’d a wasp on its tail,

When the brute gave a kick, and upset the milk-pail.

FIRST FRIAR.

Ha! ha! ha! well sung, and passing humorous.—

Hark! who craves admittance? [Noise without.

FIRST TROOPER.

Hollo! ho! open the door.

SECOND FRIAR.

First say who wishes to be admitted.

194 SECOND TROOPER.

Open the door, in the king’s name, else we fulfil our warrant to the very letter, and enter thus. [Pushes up the door.

FIRST FRIAR.

Friend, your manners need polishing.

FIRST TROOPER.

If thou say’st so, by the powers! I will polish your face, you ugly crature, by levelling the huge bridge of thy nasal organ, which glitters with rubies.

FIRST FRIAR.

I crave pardon, my brave man of speech! I meant no offence.

SECOND TROOPER, (taking up a glass.)

Here’s to my native land and her pretty daughters! What say ye to that, you black sheep?

FIRST TROOPER, (to the Gudewife.)

Where’s the host?

GUDEWIFE OF ALDCAMUS.

In Heaven as I hope; but I am his substitute.

SECOND TROOPER.

And a goodly one truly; we must search you.

GUDEWIFE OF ALDCAMUS.

Heaven forfend!—I hope you mean no evil towards me, as these holy men shall witness.

195 FIRST TROOPER.

No! no! we shall not so much as harm the mole upon your chin, plump one!—But you know, that in these times many a pretty face and wicked heart is hid under the shadow of the monkish cowl, and a pair of handsome limbs under the clumsy buskin: Now, by the powers! to the search. Here, ould fellow! (Examines the first Friar.) Thou art too ugly to mess with any one but the devil;—here, boy, (Examines the other.) and thou art his brother.

SECOND TROOPER.

A pack of filthy knaves! and why should we dirty our fingers with them. Ha! whom have we got here?

AUBERY.

One with whom thou hast no concern, and whom thou hadst best let alone.

FIRST TROOPER.

In the king’s name resist not, but deliver up your sword.

AUBERY.

To what king? Not till its strength be tried, which is of good Damascus steel.

[While they fight, the Lieutenant, with others

of the party, enter, and seize Aubery behind.

Against such odds it were folly in me to combat. (Aside.) I bide my time.

196 SECOND TROOPER.

Whom have we in the chamber? Ha! another friar!

[Lady Seton, (in the disguise of the young

Friar,) alarmed, comes forth: the Cowl off,

and her long flowing locks dishevelled.

LADY SETON.

Not a Friar! but an unfortunate lady, who has lost her all at Berwick.

LIEUTENANT.

I presume, madam, you are the lady we are in search of.—If so, you had better announce yourself, that you may be treated as an honourable prisoner.

LADY SETON.

What, sir, are you a soldier, and don’t know that all women should be treated with equal courtesy by brave men? We are all branches of the same great tree, and all one in the eye of God.

LIEUTENANT.

Doubtless, fair lady! but we came not here to preach; our business is too short and summary for detail,—your name, sweet lady?

LADY SETON.

It is a name which has often made the English tremble—Seton!

LIEUTENANT.

For once it shall not, fair lady! In the name of King Edward, ye are our prisoner.

197 LADY SETON.

I accompany you through necessity; but, by the courtesy of your nation, who, though blunt, are brave; forward, yet civil; I entreat you to unbind my servant: you have already disarmed him.

LIEUTENANT.

In this, lady, you cannot be obeyed. We must proceed quickly; for the way is long, and the paths of Pease intricate.

LADY SETON.

Then I do make a virtue of necessity, and bear my burden rejoicing; farewell, good woman, and holy men.

LIEUTENANT.

To the door, soldiers, and bind the prisoner.

[Exit Troopers with Aubery.

GUDEWIFE OF ALDCAMUS.

Fareweel, gude lady! and gif ye cum this way again, an’ it no be far out o’ your way, just spier for the Gudewife o’ Aldcamus, and it will be an especial favour to your humble well-wisher, keeping warldly concerns in the way of business out o’ the question.

LADY SETON.

Thank ye, old lady, for your hospitality; and if, in happier times, you ever come to the palace of Seton, on the high road to Edinburgh, ask for Christian Cheyne, and ye shall be rewarded. [Exeunt.

198 SCENE IV.

The King’s Pavilion in the English Camp.

King Edward seated, with Attendants.

Enter D’Arcy with Lady Seton.

KING EDWARD.

Whom bring you now to grace our presence?

Some rebel’s lady by her port I guess.

D’ARCY.

Even so, my liege; the Lady Seton.

KING EDWARD.

I’m glad to see thee, dame, the foe of England,

In Edward’s power.

LADY SETON.

What follows that, your highness?

KING EDWARD.

Ye are a scion of that poisonous tree,

That bears us deadly fruit. The Setons league

Forever ’gainst our royal will and pleasure.

LADY SETON.

A Seton, seeks to serve her lawful king;

If this is treason, may I die a traitor;

’Twere sweeter thus to die than live in bondage.

199KING EDWARD.

Say, is not Edward Baliol your liege lord,

And have ye not rebell’d ’gainst him and England?

LADY SETON.

I ask the proof,—we own no king but David,

The lawful husband of your sister Joan.

King! is it fair to use your brother thus?

If to be up in arms ’gainst a usurper

Be called rebellion, then, I am a rebel!

KING EDWARD.

And but for thy sweet sex, obstreperous dame,

You’d die a rebel’s death!

LADY SETON.

In such a cause,

It were my earnest wish. Have ye not slain

My children? and ye now would blast my honour!

But this a king shall not deprive me of.

KING EDWARD.

Proud amazon of women, since ye deem

Death but a lightly thing, ye shall not die

Till scorn shall have a merry jubilee!

Coped in an iron cage, on Berwick’s turrets,

Thoul’t be enthroned to reign through irksome life,

(Like Buchan’s countess, that audacious rebel,)

To ornament the walls which ye preserved,

And be the queen of laughter to the city.

200LADY SETON.

I’ll perish sooner!—

[Attempts first to stab herself, then the King;

but is prevented by the Guards; upon which

she throws away the dagger, and sobs more

in anger than in grief.

Oh! Heaven! forgive the deed!

Misfortune thus makes cowards of us all.

KING EDWARD.

Woman! I do forgive thee.

We took one life from thee, you owe me one!

Be sorry for the past, and crave our mercy.

LADY SETON.

Alas! that I should be in Edward’s debt!

The murderer of my son. I will not bend

Nor own allegiance to my country’s foe.

KING EDWARD.

Then, since ye do despise our royal mercy,

Away with her, ye laggards! do your duty.

LADY SETON.

Support me, Heaven! support the rights of Scotland!

[Exit with Guards.

Maggy Carmichael is brought in as a Prisoner.

KING EDWARD.

Whom have we now? what bedlamite is this?

201LIEUTENANT.

This woman’s husband, liege, gave us the slip.

We crave to know if she should pay the price

Of his delinquency, most gracious sovereign!

KING EDWARD.

Don’t trouble us

With such low matters. Give her to the beadle;

Let her be whipp’d, unless her husband comes

Ere set of sun to bear the stripes himself.

MAGGY (to the Guards, as they go out.)

He come!—the earth will leap to the moon ere he come! and the gun-brigs sail through the Needles ere he come! and King Arthur return from fairy-land ere he come! A murrain on him, to betray his wife into the hands of the Philistines!

Enter Dunbar and Seton, with eight Hostages.

KING EDWARD.

My lords, I’m ready to receive your fealty:

Have ye prepared the deed that guarantees

The future conduct of our Berwick lieges!

DUNBAR.

In these long instruments, your majesty

Will find each item noted as agreed;

To which our names as witness are appended;

These pretty boys must answer the fulfilment;

With these I bring Sir Alexander Seton

To do you homage.

202KING EDWARD.

It is well, my lord!

Fair youths of promise! beauteous smiling boys,

Were Englishmen your fathers? Do not frown:

Seton, you have a devil of a wife!

SETON.

I hope your highness will forgive her rudeness;

She smarts beneath the sorrows of the war;

A woman’s roused feelings rend her heart!

Else she would not despise that clemency

That falls like dew from heaven upon the earth.

KING EDWARD.

An arrant rebel! Seton, call her in;

For I will not forgive her till she kneels

To bless the name of Edward!

SETON.

Gracious prince!

That is impossible; no human power

Will bend her stubborn heart.

KING EDWARD.

Then she must live

Disgraced, or die a death—a death of torture!

SETON.

Spare her, most gracious prince! upon my knees

I beg this boon, who never knelt before.

BALIOL.

Forgive her, king, she knows not what she does.

203KING EDWARD.

Nay, I forgive her not, until she kneels,

And does due homage to her prince and me.

[Lady Seton is brought in.

Lady, come bless the puissant arms of England,

And swear allegiance to your sovereign, Baliol,

Who intercedes for thee.

LADY SETON.

I am resolved!—

I cannot bless the murderer of my sons!—

I cannot own ought prince but David Bruce!

KING EDWARD.

Then if thou wilt not bless our clemency,

Thou now shalt feel our rigour!

[Motions to one of the Guards, who comes forward,

but in place of seizing the Lady, throws

off his disguise, and discovers himself to be

her Son.

LADY SETON.

My son, my son! [Embraces him, then kneels.

For once, high Heaven, I bless the name of Edward,

Who has restored my long-lost sheep to me!

KING EDWARD.

Lady, if justice did demand that one

Of thine should pay the price of others’ treason,

We now repent us of it, and restore

204A lawful prisoner to his mother’s arms!—

I combat not for vengeance, but for glory.

LADY SETON.

Eternal Heaven reward you! one boon more

I crave, great prince! that you will spare that woman,

Whose hands are innocent of her husband’s fault.

KING EDWARD.

By deeds of policy I thus subdue

These Scots unto my purpose. [Aside.

My lovely suitor, that cannot be done;

These vagrants must be kept in due subjection

By wholesome discipline!

Enter Lieutenant with Ambrose.

Ha! here’s the caitiff!

The fellow now must suffer for himself.

AMBROSE.

May’t please your majesty, most excellent! unto the Irish troopers I appeal, if I did not set them on the right scent, as my loving wife knows to her great cost and narrow escape,

LIEUTENANT.

My liege! this fellow was a trusty guide,

Who did betray his loving wife and mistress;

But, like a treach’rous rascal, in the sequel

Took leave of us, and left his counterpart.

KING EDWARD.

Bring her unto our presence!

205Enter Soldier with Maggy.

MAGGY.

Oh, Ambrose! Ambrose! you’ve done for us both now. “Pride gangs before, but shame follows as fast behind,” as I told you. Here we stand, fine exemplifications, like condemned criminals.

AMBROSE.

Hush, Maggy, till ye hear our lord the king’s decision. If shame follows pride, so much the better, for it will work repentance!

KING EDWARD.

Come forward, sirrah! your excess of zeal

To worry others has mounced up yourself;

But since you’ve done us some small loyal service,

It is our royal pleasure to reward you:

Speak your desire.

Ambrose (meditating.)

Whatever your most excellent majesty may please; any thing but Mayor. Captain of the Town-guard.

KING EDWARD.

Excellent! kneel, thou chubby one!

[He kneels on both knees. The Courtiers laugh.

Rise up, Ambrose Carmichael, captain of the town-guard, with all the honours!

AMBROSE.

Heaven bless your majesty! for I’ll go crazy with 206joy. O Maggy! oh, my old mother! what would you say to this?—Captain of the town-guard!

DUNBAR.

I fear, my liege, the town-guard will not accept of this fellow as their captain.

KING EDWARD.

Why not?

DUNBAR.

Because he belongs to the Waits, and not to the town-guard.

KING EDWARD.

Waits!—what are those?

DUNBAR.

Those wandering minstrels of the night, who lull the love-sick maids of Berwick asleep with amorous airs.

KING EDWARD.

What say you to this, Ambrose?

AMBROSE.

An’t please your majesty, to grant me the pension, I willingly resign the captaincy, as, although I am not envious, yet am better bred than to refuse your majesty’s bounty.

KING EDWARD.

So shall it be!—Now, nobles, to the camp,

Since we must follow up this victory

With greater conquests! [The curtain falls.

END OF THE SIEGE OF BERWICK.

207