Adel. Therefore 'tis sure that Douglas loves not me. Mary. Despair sometimes puts on the smile of hope. Enter HAMILTON. Ham. Your Highness' council is again assembled Upon another message that arrived, Some half hour since, from Murray's quarters; [Exeunt. SCENE III.-The Bank of the River below Glasgow. Enter three Burgesses, a Barber, a Gardener, and a Tailor. Barb. You two watch here till the morning bugle tells the sun to get up; and hear me, you are not to step a hairbreadth below the old willow, nor farther up than that grey thorn there; and as soon as ever you hear the Lennox men coming, look sharp, run up to the water port, and tell the news. [Exit. Tail. It will soon be morning now. Gard. Morning! and so many stars in the water. Tail. I think I see a long shred of red far in the east. Gard. I wish I saw it. I'm weary of this work. I wonder how it is to end. I hope the Queen will get her own again. Tail. How dare ye venture to think or speak such a wish? Gard. It is not to every body I would venture; but are not you my friend? Tail. Yes, yes, you are safe enough with me. Tail. I fear she knew something of Darnley's murder; but what's ten times worse, they say she prays to a picture. Gard. Would you believe her to be a murderer ? Such a face never belonged to a murderer. her on her way to Cruickston with Darnley. you not see her? Tail. No; I never saw her. I saw Did Gard. Both old and young ran out to gaze at her. Tail. The fairest skin may hide a cruel heart. Gard. A cruel heart! She would not hurt a midge's wing. I remember, that time she went to Cruickston, your King Darnley flew a hawk at a bird, but the Queen made the falconer try to lure her back; but on she flew, (I thought the Queen's eye would have darted after her with very earnestness,) and still they flew and flew till the bird was out o' sight, and the hawk as small as the bird, and next the hawk by little and little melted away; but at last she came back, and then if ye had seen how blythe the Queen's eye glistened, when she saw neither blood nor feathers on the hooked beak. She could not bear to think the poor bird was killed, and can ye trow she would kill her husband? Tail. Yes, I can trow it; he was too good to live. Gard. I'll tell you what that husband did;-he smiled a bitter smile of spite, and set the panting tarsel upon the Queen's bare arm till the blood sprang at each talon, and stained her lily skin;-I saw a tear run down her cheek, like a dew-drop on a wild rose, but I thought it was rather a tear of joy for the bird's escape, than of grief for herself; and then she hooded the hawk with her own hand. Tail. Some say she paints her cheek. Gard. Who would e'er paint a flower? You never saw her. Her cheek! the fading of the red into the white is a colour like nothing I have seen, unless it be hoar frost on a rose. Tail. She will cost many a brave man his life. Gard. That is too true; but see, the morning now is dawning; yon ruddy glow foreruns the sun; and hark! the mavis chaunt. Tail. It is time we should be gone. Gard. Before we go, I'll venture past our ward down to yon broomy brae, to pull a sprig for our little Jonny's new bonnet; the boys are all a-soldiering now o' days, and he is captain of his company; he'll be right proud of such a pretty plume. Tail. Stop, stop; I hear a sound far down the water. Gard. Can it be-(Listening)-the stroke of oars? Tail. The Lennox men, I hope;-it is;-Do not you hear the rowers' timing chaunt ? Gard. I hear something like music. [Music heard, indistinctly at first; then There Gard. (After a listening pause.) Aye; some of you will never return to your heathery braes. will be many a fatherless child before that sun sets again. Tail. They come but slowly; I wish a breeze would spring to help them on; but there's not a breath of wind. [Music ceases. Gard. See yonder, their drooping streamers upon the mast-tops peering through the mist. Tail. There, there, the foremost bow comes bulging into view; look, look, the naked knees and tartan hose. It is the Lennox men. Haste, let us tell the welcome news. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-Glasgow. The Castle. MURRAY sitting thoughtful. Enter CRAWFORD. Mur. None yet. I fear they have detained Crawf. The Lennox men are not arrived. Mur. I'm confident they will be here ere long. Crawf. Who would depend upon the wind and tide? Mur. Aye, there the folly of old Lennox shines. His torpid soul all action seems to hate : The motion of the gentlest ambling palfrey Is all too rough for him. To save his life He'd lift, but lift reluctantly, his arm. I do believe that if he were embarked, And set adrift above some cataract, He'd sit with folded arms, gliding along, And listen to the swelling roar, and then perhaps, And slowly ply, until he gained the bank. Mur. I do not trust to him. There's one I trust,Pharlan's brave chief, who, if it rest with him, |