Douglas (Home, 1757)/Act 3 Scene 2
SCENE II.
Enter Lady Randolph and Anna.
Anna.Summon your utmost fortitude, beforeYou speak with him. Your dignity, your fame,Are now at stake. Think of the fatal secret,Which in a moment from your lips may fly.
Lady Randolph.Thou shalt behold me, with a desperate heart,Hear how my infant perish'd. See he kneels.[The prisoner kneels.]
PrisonerHeav'n bless that countenance, so sweet and mild!A judge like thee makes innocence more bold.O save me, lady! from these cruel men,Who have attack'd and seiz'd me; who accuseMe of intended murder. As I hopeFor mercy at the judgment seat of God,The tender lamb, that never nipt the grass,Is not more innocent than I of murder.
Lady Randolph.Of this man's guilt what proof can ye produce?
First Servant.We found him lurking in the hollow Glynn.When view'd and call'd upon, amaz'd, he fled.We overtook him, and enquir'd from whenceAnd what he was: he said he came from far,And was upon his journey to the camp.Not satisfied with this, we search'd his cloaths,And found these jewels; whose rich value pleadMost powerfully against him. Hard he seemsAnd old in villainy. Permit us tryHis stubborness against the torture's force.
Prisoner.O gentle lady! by your lord's dear life!Which these weak hands, I swear, did ne'er assail;And by your children's welfare, spare my age!Let not the iron tear my ancient joints,And my grey hairs bring to the grave with pain.
Lady Randolph.Account for these: thine own they cannot be:For these, I say: be stedfast to the truth;Detected falsehood is most certain death.[Anna removes the servants and returns.]
Prisoner.Alas! I'm fore beset! let never man,For sake of lucre, sin against his soul!Eternal justice is in this most just!I, guiltless now, must former guilt reveal.
Lady Randolph.O! Anna hear!—once more I charge thee speakThe truth direct: for these to me foretellAnd certify a part of thy narration;With which if the remainder tallies not,An instant and a dreadful death abides thee.
Prisoner.Then, thus adjur'd, I'll speak to you as justAs if you were the minister of heaven,Sent down to search the secret sins of men.Some eighteen years ago, I rented landOf brave Sir Malcolm, then Balarmo's lord;But falling to decay, his servants seiz'dAll that I had, and then turn'd me and mine,(Four helpless infants and their weeping mother)Out to the mercy of the winter winds.A little hovel by the river's sideReceiv'd us: there hard labour, and the skillIn fishing, which was formerly my sport,Supported life. Whilst thus we poorly liv'd,One stormy night, as I remember well,The wind and rain beat hard upon our roof:Red came the river down, and loud and oftThe angry spirit of the water shriek'd.At the dead hour of night was heard the cryOf one in jeopardy. I rose, and ranTo where the circling eddy of a poolBeneath the ford, us'd oft to bring withinMy reach whatever floating thing the streamHad caught. The voice was ceas'd; the person lost:But looking sad and earnest on the waters,By the moon's light I saw, whirl'd round and round,A basket: soon I drew it to the bank,And nestled curious there an infant lay.
Lady Randolph.Was he alive?
Prisoner.He was.
Lady Randolph.Inhuman that thou art!How couldst thou kill what waves and tempests spar'd?
PrisonerI am not so inhuman.
Lady Randolph.Didst thou not?
Anna.My noble mistress, you are mov'd too much:This man has not the aspect of stern murder;Let him go on, and you, I hope, will hearGood tidings of your kinsman's long lost child.
PrisonerThe needy man, who has known better days,One whom distress has spited at the world,Is he whom tempting fiends would pitch uponTo do such deeds, as makes the prosperous menLift up their hands and wonder who could do them.And such a man was I; a man declin'd,Who saw no end of black adversity:Yet, for the wealth of kingdoms, I would notHave touch'd that infant, with a hand of harm.
Lady Randolph.Ha! dost thou say so? Then perhaps he lives!
PrisonerNot many days ago he was alive.
Lady Randolph.O! God of heav'n! Did he then die so lately?
PrisonerI did not say he died; I hope he lives.Not many days ago these eyes beheldHim, flourishing in youth, and health, and beauty.
Lady Randolph.Where is he now?
PrisonerAlas! I know not where.
Lady Randolph.Oh fate! I fear thee still. Thou riddler, speakDirect and clear; else I will search thy soul.
Anna.Permit me, ever honour'd! Keen impatience,Tho' hard to be restrain'd, defeats itself.—Pursue thy story with a faithful tongue,To the last hour that thou didst keep the child.
Prisoner.Fear not my faith, tho' I must speak my shame.Within the cradle, where the infant lay,Was stow'd a mighty store of gold and jewels;Tempted by which we did resolve to hide,From all the world, this wonderful event,And like a peasant breed the noble child.That none might mark the change of our estate,We left the country, travell'd to the north,Bought flocks and herds, and gradually brought forthOur secret wealth, But God's all-seeing eyeBeheld our avarice, and smote us sore.For one by one all our own children died,And he, the stranger, sole remain'd the heirOf what indeed was his. Fain then would I,Who with a father's fondness lov'd the boy,Have trusted him, now in the dawn of youth,With his own secret: but my anxious wife,Foreboding evil, never would consent.Mean while the stripling grew in years and beauty;And, as we oft observ'd, he bore himself,Not as the offspring of our cottage blood;For nature will break out: mild with the mild,But with the froward he was fierce as fire,And night and day he talk'd of war and arms.I set myself against his warlike bent;But all in vain: for when a desperate bandOf robbers from the savage mountains came———
Lady Randolph.Eternal providence! What is thy name?
Prisoner.My name is Norval; and my name he bears,
Lady Randolph.'Tis he; 'tis he himself! It is my son!O sovereign mercy! 'Twas my child I saw!No wonder, Anna, that my bosom burn'd.
Anna.Just are your transports: ne'er was woman's heartProv'd with such fierce extremes. High fated dame!But yet remember that you are beheldBy servile eyes; your gestures may be seenImpassion'd, strange; perhaps your words o'erheard.
Lady Randolph.Well dost thou counsel, Anna: Heaven bestowOn me that wisdom which my state requires!
Anna.The moments of deliberation pass,And soon you must resolve. This useful manMust be dismiss'd in safety, e'er my lordShall with his brave deliverer return.
PrisonerIf I, amidst astonishment and fear,Have of your words and gestures rightly judg'd,Thou art the daughter of my ancient master;The child I rescu'd from the flood is thine.
Lady Randolph.With thee dissimulation now were vain.I am indeed the daughter of Sir Malcolm;The child thou rescu'dst from the flood is mine
PrisonerBlest be the hour that made me a poor man!My poverty hath sav'd my master's house!
Lady Randolph.Thy words surprize me: sure thou dost not feign:The tear stands in thine eye: such love from theeSir Malcolm's house deserv'd not; if arightThou told'st the story of thy own distress.
PrisonerSir Malcolm of our barons was the flower;The fastest friend, the best and kindest master.But ah! he knew not of my sad estate.After that battle, where his gallant son,Your own brave brother, fell, the good old lordGrew desperate and reckless of the world;And never, as he erst was wont, went forthTo overlook the conduct of his servants.By them I was thrust out, and them I blame:May heaven so judge me as I judg'd my master!And God so love me as I love his race!
Lady Randolph.His race shall yet reward thee. On thy faithDepends the fate of thy lov'd master's house.Rememb'rest thou a little lonely hut,That like a holy hermitage appearsAmong the clifts of Carron?
PrisonerI rememberThe cottage of the clifts.
Lady Randolph.'Tis that I mean:There dwells a man of venerable age,Who in my father's service spent his youth:Tell him I sent thee, and with him remain,'Till I shall call upon thee to declare,Before the king and nobles, what thou now To me hast told. No more but this, and thouShalt live in honour all thy future days;Thy son so long shall call thee father still,And all the land shall bless the man, who sav'dThe son of Douglas, and Sir Malcolm's heir.Remember well my words: if thou shouldst meetHim whom thou call'st thy son, still call him so;And mention nothing of his nobler father.
Prisoner.Fear not that I shall mar so fair an harvest,By putting in my sickle 'ere 'tis ripe.Why did I leave my home and ancient dame?To find the youth, to tell him all I knew,And make him wear these jewels in his arms;Which might, I thought, be challeng'd, and so bringTo light the secret of his noble birth.[Lady Randolph goes towards the Servants.
Lady Randolph.This man is not th'assassin you suspected,Tho' chance combin'd some likelyhoods against him.He is the faithful bearer of the jewelsTo their right owner, whom in haste he seeks.'Tis meet that you should put him on his way,Since your mistaken zeal hath dragg'd him hither.[Exeunt Stranger and Servants.