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And with ironical derisive counsel

Explore his spirit. If he is no more

Than humble Norval, by thy favour raised,
Brave as he is, he'll shrink astonish'd from me:
But if he be the favourite of the fair,
Loved by the first of Caledonia's dames,
He'll turn upon me, as the lion turns
Upon the hunter's spear.

Lord R. 'Tis shrewdly thought.

Glen. When we grow loud, draw near. my lord

His rising wrath restrain.

'Tis strange, by Heaven!

But let

[Exit RANDOLPH.

That she should run full tilt her fond career
To one so little known. She, too, that seem'd
Pure as the winter stream, when ice, emboss'd,
Whitens its course. Even I did think her chaste,
Whose charity exceeds not. Precious sex!
Whose deeds lascivious pass Glenalvon's thoughts!
Enter NORVAL.

His port I love: he's in a proper mood
To chide the thunder, if at him it roar'd.—
Has Norval seen the troops?

Nor. The setting sun

With yellow radiance lighten'd all the vale;
And as the warriors moved, each polish'd helm,
Corslet, or spear, glanced back his gilded beams.
The hill they climbed, and, halting at its top,
Of more than mortal size, tow'ring, they seem'd
An host angelic, clad in burning arms.

[Aside.

Glen. Thou talk'st it well; no leader of our host
In sounds more lofty speaks of glorious war.
Nor. If I shall e'er acquire a leader's name,
My speech will be less ardent. Novelty

Now prompts my tongue, and youthful admiration
Vents itself freely; since no part is mine
Of praise pertaining to the great in arms.

Glen. You wrong yourself, brave sir, your martial

deeds

Have rank'd you with the great. But mark me

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Lord Randolph's favour now exalts your youtli
Above his veterans of famous service.

Let me, who know these soldiers, counsel you.
Give them all honour: seem not to command;
Else they will scarcely brook your late sprung power,
Which nor alliance props, nor birth adorns.

Nor. Sir, I have been accustom'd all my days
To hear and speak the plain and simple truth:
And though I have been told, that there are men
Who borrow friendship's tongue to speak their scorn,
Yet in such language I am little skill'd.
Therefore I thank Glenalvon for his counsel,
Although it sounded harshly. Why remind
Me of my birth obscure? Why slur my power
With such contemptuous terms?

Glen. I did not mean

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To gall your pride, which now I see is great.
Nor. My pride!

Glen. Suppress it, as you wish to prosper.
Your pride's excessive. Yet, for Randolph's sake,
I will not leave you to its rash direction.

If thus you swell, and frown at high-born men,
Think you, will they endure a shepherd's scorn?
Nor. A shepherd's scorn!

Glen. Yes, if you presume

To bend on soldiers these disdainful eyes,
As if you took the measure of their minds,

And said in secret, you're no match for ine,

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Hast thou no fears for thy presumptuous self?
Glen. Ha! dost thou threaten ine?

Nor. Didst thou not hear?

[Aside.

Glen. Unwillingly I did; a nobler foe

Had not been question'd thus. But such as thee-
Nor. Whom dost thou think me?

Glen. Norval.

Nor. So I am—

And who is Norval in Glenalvon's eye ?

Glen. A peasant's son, a wandering beggar boy; At best no more; even if he speaks the truth.

Nor. False as thou art, dost thou suspect my truth?

Glen. Thy truth! thou'rt all a lie; and false as

hell

Is the vain-glorious tale thou told'st to Randolph.
Nor If I were chain'd, unarm'd, and bedrid old
Perhaps I should revile; but as I am,
I have no tongue to rail. The humble Norval
Is of a race, who strive not but with deeds.

Did I not fear to freeze thy shallow valour,

And make thee sink too soon beneath my sword,
I'd tell thee what thou art. I know thee well.
Glen. Didst thou not know Glenalvon, born to
command

Ten thousand slaves like thee

Nor. Villain, no more!

Draw and defend thy life. I did design

To have defy'd thee in another cause;

But Heaven accelerates its vengeance on thee.
Now for my own and Lady Randolph's wrongs.

Enter LORD Randolph.

Lord R. Hold, I command you both. The man that stirs,

Makes me his foe.

Nor. Another voice than thine

That threat had vainly sounded, noble Randolph.

Glen. Hear him, my lord; he's wond'rous conde

scending!

Mark the humility of shepherd Norval!

Nor. Now you may scoff in safety.

Lord R. Speak not thus,

[Sheathes his sword.

Taunting each other; but unfold to me

The cause of quarrel; then I judge betwixt you.
Nor. Nay, my good lord, though I revere you
much,

My cause I plead not, nor demand your judgment.
I blush to speak: I will not, cannot speak

The opprobrious words, that I from him have borne.
To the liege lord of my dear native land

I owe a subject's homage: but even him
And his high arbitration I'd reject.
Within my bosom reigns another lord;
Honour, sole judge and umpire of itself.
If my free speech offend you, noble Randolph,
Revoke your favours, and let Norval go
Hence as he came, alone, but not dishonoured.

Lord R. Thus far I'll mediate with impartial voice;

The ancient foe of Caledonia's land

Now waves his banners o'er her frighted fields;
Suspend your purpose till your country's arms
Repel the bold invader; then decide

The private quarrel.

Glen. I agree to this.

Nor. And I.

Enter SERVANT.

Serv. The banquet waits.

Lord R. We come.

Glen. Norval,

[Exit with SERVANT,

Let not our variance mar the social hour,
Nor wrong the hospitality of Randolph.
Nor frowning anger, nor yet wrinkled hate,

Shall stain my countenance. Smooth thou thy brow: Nor let our strife disturb the gentle dame.

Nor. Think not so lightly, sir, of my resentment. When we contend again, our strife is mortal.

[Exeunt

ACT THE FIFTH,

SCENE 1.

A Wood.

Enter DOUGLAS.

Doug. This is the place, the centre of the grove;
Here stands the oak, the monarch of the wood.
How sweet and solemn is this midnight scene
The silver moon, unclouded, holds her way
Through skies, where I could count each little star.
The fanning west wind scarcely stirs the leaves;
The river, rushing o'er its pebbled bed,
Imposes silence, with a stilly sound.

In such a place as this, at such an hour,
If ancestry can be in aught believed,
Descending spirits have conversed with man,
And told the secrets of the world unknown.

Enter OLD NORVAL.

Old Nor. 'Tis he. But what if he should chide me

hence ?

His just reproach I fear.

Forgive, forgive ;

[DOUGLAS turns aside, and sees him.

Canst thou forgive the man, the selfish man,

Who bred Sir Malcom's heir a shepherd's son?

Doug. Welcome to me. Thou art my father still :

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