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SCENE II.

Edinburgh.-An Apartment in Lord HUNTLEY'S House.

Enter HUNTLEY and DALYELL.

Hunt. You trifle time, sir.

Dal. Oh, my noble lord,

You construe my griefs to so hard a sense,
That where the text is argument of pity,
Matter of earnest love, your gloss corrupts it
With too much ill-placed mirth.

Hunt. "Much mirth," lord Dalyell!

Not so, I vow. Observe me, sprightly gallant.
I know thou art a noble lad, a handsome,
Descended from an honourable ancestry,
Forward and active, dost resolve to wrestle,
And ruffle in the world by noble actions,
For a brave mention to posterity:

I scorn not thy affection to my daughter,

Not I, by good Saint Andrew; but this bugbear,
This whoreson tale of honour,-honour, Dalyell!-
So hourly chats and tattles in mine ear,

The piece of royalty that is stitch'd up
In my

Kate's blood, that 'tis as dangerous

For thee, young lord, to perch so near an eaglet, As foolish for my gravity to admit it:

I have spoke all at once.

Dal. Sir, with this truth,

You mix such wormwood, that you leave no hope For my disorder'd palate e'er to relish

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A wholesome taste again: alas! I know, sir,
What an unequal distance lies between.

Great Huntley's daughter's birth and Dalyell's fortunes;

She's the king's kinswoman, placed near the

crown,

A princess of the blood, and I a subject.

Hunt. Right; but a noble subject; put in that

too.

Dal. I could add more; and in the rightest line, Derive my pedigree from Adam Mure,

A Scottish knight; whose daughter was the mo

ther

To him who first begot the race of Jameses,
That sway the sceptre to this very day.
But kindreds are not ours, when once the date
Of

many years have swallow'd up the memory Of their originals; so pasture-fields,

Neighbouring too near the ocean, are supp'd up
And known no more: for stood I in my first
And native greatness, if my princely mistress
Vouchsafed me not her servant, 'twere as good
I were reduced to clownery, to nothing,
As to a throne of wonder.

Hunt. Now, by Saint Andrew,

A spark of metal! he has a brave fire in him.
I would he had my daughter, so I knew 't not.
But 't must not be so, must not.-[Aside]-Well,
young lord,

This will not do yet; if the girl be headstrong,
And will not hearken to good counsel, steal her,

And run away with her; dance galliards, do,
And frisk about the world to learn the languages:
Twill be a thriving trade; you may set up by't.
Dal. With pardon, noble Gordon, this disdain
Suits not your daughter's virtue, or my constancy.
Hunt. You're angry-would he would beat me,
I deserve it.
[Aside.
Dalyell, thy hand, we are friends: follow thy
courtship,

Take thine own time and speak; if thou prevail'st
With passion, more than I can with my counsel,
She's thine; nay, she is thine: 'tis a fair match,
Free and allow'd. I'll only use my tongue,
Without a father's power; use thou thine:

Self do, self have-no more words; win and wear her.

Dal. You bless me; I am now too poor in thanks

To pay the debt I owe you.

Hunt. Nay, thou'rt poor enough.—
I love his spirit infinitely.-Look ye,
She comes: to her now, to her, to her!

Enter KATHERINE and JANE.

Kath. The king commands your presence, sir. Hunt. The gallant

This, this, this lord, this servant, Kate, of yours, Desires to be your master.

Kath. I acknowledge him.

A worthy friend of mine.

Dal. Your humblest creature.

Hunt. So, so; the game's a-foot, I'm in cold

hunting,

The hare and hounds are parties.

Dal. Princely lady,

[Aside.

How most unworthy I am to employ
My services, in honour of your virtues,
How hopeless my desires are to enjoy
Your fair opinion, and much more your love;
Are only matters of despair, unless

Your goodness gives large warrants to my bold

ness,

My feeble-wing'd ambition.

Hunt. This is scurvy.

Kath. My lord, I interrupt you not.

Hunt. Indeed!

[Aside.

Now on my life she'll court him.-[Aside.]-Nay,

nay, on, sir.

Dal. Oft have I tuned the lesson of my sorrows To sweeten discord, and enrich your pity,

But all in vain: here had my comforts sunk
And never ris'n again, to tell a story

Of the despairing lover, had not now,

Even now, the earl your father

Hunt. He means me sure.

[Aside.

Dal. After some fit disputes of your condition, Your highness and my lowness, given a licence Which did not more embolden, than encourage My faulting tongue.

Hunt. How, how? how's that? embolden? Encourage? I encourage ye! d'ye hear, sir?

A subtle trick, a quaint one.-Will you hear,

man?

What did I say to you? come, come, to th' point. Kath. It shall not need, my lord.

Hunt. Then hear me, Kate!

Keep you on that hand of her; I on this.-
Thou stand'st between a father and a suitor,
Both striving for an interest in thy heart:
He courts thee for affection, I for duty;
He as a servant pleads; but by the privilege
Of nature, though I might command, my care
Shall only counsel what it shall not force.

Thou canst but make one choice; the ties of marriage

Are tenures, not at will, but during life.

Consider whose thou art, and who; a princess,
A princess of the royal blood of Scotland,
In the full spring of youth, and fresh in beauty.
The king that sits upon the throne is young,
And yet unmarried, forward in attempts
On any least occasion, to endanger

His person; wherefore, Kate, as I am confident
Thou dar'st not wrong thy birth and education
By yielding to a common servile rage
Of female wantonness, so I am confident
Thou wilt proportion all thy thoughts to side
Thy equals, if not equal thy superiors.
My lord of Dalyell, young in years, is old
In honours, but nor eminent in titles
[N]or in estate, that may support or add to
The expectation of thy fortunes. Settle

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