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Strathmore.

First performed at the THEATRE ROYAL, HAYMARKET, 20th of

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Let's have a glow as fierce as the brave hearts
That kindle at the stroke of wrong, to fire!

Craig. Was that the tramp of horse?
Bryce.

No; but the roar

Of the swoll'n torrent in the pausing wind.

Ham. How long, just Heaven, wilt Thou forbear to smite These sons of Belial? In the book of time

No page of bloody tyranny is writ

More foul than theirs. Our people hunted down,

Put to the sword, or from the cruel rack.

Borne to the scaffold! Why? Because they cleave

To Scotland's ancient faith, and will not brook

The claim of England's Church to bind their souls. Craig. Woe to these wolves of Edom! Double woe To this licentious king, who desolates

The sanctuary he swore to spare!

Bryce.

To spare!

Nay, to defend. But what to Charles are oaths?

False to his friend as to his land, what boon
Requites the wealth my father lost for his?
Our home, seized by his foes, Charles repossess'd
But not restored. A wanton and a flatterer
Divide our fief between them!

Ham.

Peace, John Brycefield!

Too much thou broodest on a private wrong,

Too little on a suffering Church.

Bryce.

My injuries

Are warrant for my truth. [A distant report of carbines. Ah! now your ears,

That was no brawl of rivers. [Another and nearer volley. There again!

Mars, sirs, is up! I've known his strain from boyhood. Ham. Put by this heathenish lingo.

Bryce.

Heathen names

Consort with heathen deeds. The ring of hoofs-
They come !

Ham. [Drawing] Then death to him who enters first!
Craig. Too hasty, Robert! What are cloaks for?
See! [He snatches his cloak, and conceals his sword
under it; the rest do the like.

Bryce. The tramp grows fainter-now it dies away; They hawk at other quarry.

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[A low knocking is heard at door, and twice repeated. Craig.

Hist!

'Tis Allan's signal. Quick! unbar the door.

[BRYCEFIELD opens the door, and admits JOHN BALFOUR of Burley, and ANDREW KEITH.

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Ham. [Giving his hand.] You're welcome, and your comrade

What, Andrew Keith! More outrage!

Bur. [To KEITH.]

Speak thou, pastor,

And be thy speech the trumpet which proclaims
The pouring forth of vials.

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