« PreviousContinue »
Thy will and reason by a strength of judgment,
Dal. Oh! you are all oracle,
your sweet composition, thus commands
4 Lead thee to shrink mine honour, &c.] This is the reading of the 4to, and makes very good sense; but from the general tenor of the sentence, I am inclined to believe that the poet's word was sink. s I have done.] And done well too! The
here meant is George, the eldest son of Alexander Seton, and second Earl of Huntley. He married Anabella, daughter of James I. Hence it is that be talks, in his opening speech, of “ the piece of royalty that is stitched up in his Kate's blood.” What authority the poet had for the histrionic character of this nobleman, I know not; but if the princely family of the Gordons ever numbered such a personage as this among their ancestors, let them be justly proud of him; for neither on the stage, nor in the great drama of life, will there be easily found a character to put in competition with him.
Daliell (for so Ford writes it) is also a noble fellow. There are two persons of thạt name, William and Robert Dalzell, grandsons of Sir John Dalzell, either of whom, from the date, might be meant for the character here introduced. Of the former nothing is recorded. The latter, Douglas says, was killed at Dumfries, in skirmish between Maxwell and Crichton, July, 1508.”
You take off from the roughness of a father,
Hunt. Kate, Kate, thou grow'st upon my heart,
Creating every other hour a jubilee.
Kath. To you, my lord of Dalyell, I address Some few remaining words: the general fame That speaks your merit, even in vulgar tongues, Proclaims it clear; but in the best, a precedent.
Hunt. Good wench, good girl, i' faith!
Kath. For my part, trust me, I value mine own worth at higher rate, 'Cause you are pleas'd to prize it: if the stream Of your protested service (as you term it) Run in a constancy, more than a compliment, It shall be my delight, that worthy love Leads you to worthy actions; and these guide you Richly to wed an honourable name:
virtuous praise, in after-ages, Shall be your heir, and I, in your brave mention, Be chronicled the mother of that issue, That glorious issue.
Hunt. Oh, that I were young again! She'd make me court proud danger, and suck spirit From reputation.
Kath. To the present motion, Here's all that I dare answer: when a ripeness Of more experience, and some use of time, Resolves to treat the freedom of my youth Upon exchange of troths, I shall desire No surer credit of a match with virtue Than such as lives in you; mean time, my hopes
Preser[v]'d secure, in having you a friend. .
Dal. You are a blessed lady, and instruct
continue A hearty love.—Oh, Kate! thou art mine own. No more ;-my lord of Crawford.
Hunt. Some weighty business?
6 Enter Crawford.] This is probably (for I speak with great hesitation on the subject) John, second son of David, fourth Earl Crawford. If I am right in this conjecture, he stood in some kind of relationship to Huntley, his elder brother Alexander (dead at this period) having married Lady Jane Gordon, the earl's second daughter.
The second son to the late English Edward,
Craw. My service, noble lady.
men wise ; The sun itself must set as well as rise;" Then, why not I? Fair madam, I wait on you.
London.—An Apartment in the Tower. Enter the BISHOP OF DURHAM, SIR ROBERT Clif
FORD, and Urswick.—Lights.
to his favour: do not falter In your discovery; but as you covet A liberal grace, and pardon for your follies,
So labour to deserve it, by laying open
magic, The charms and incantations, which the sorceress Of Burgundy hath cast upon your reason: Sir Robert, be your own friend now, discharge Your conscience freely; all of such as love you, Stand sureties for your honesty and truth. Take heed you do not dally with the king, He is wise as he is gentle.
Clif. I am miserable, If Henry be not merciful.
Urs. The king comes.
Enter King Henry. K. Hen. Clifford ! Clif. (Kneels.) Let my weak knees rot on the
earth, If I appear as lep'rous in my treacheries, Before your royal eyes, as to my own I seem a monster, by my breach of truth. K. Hen. Clifford, stand up; for instance of thy
safety, I offer thee my hand.
Clif. A sovereign balm For my bruis'd soul, I kiss it with a greediness.
[Kisses the King's hand, and rises. Sir, you are a just master, but I
K. Hen. Tell me,