SCENE I.--A Room in the Earl of Buchan's Castle.

Enter the Earl of Buchan.

Buchan. This is not jealousy. I only ache With sorrow that my trust has been reposed In falseness; and I feel--I fear I feel The whole world's finger, quivering with scorn, Stream venom at me. If I cannot sleep, It is no wonder, for the laugh I hear, Like icy water rippling--cold and true As tested steel--so wise, so absolute-- Is learned from those that know me by the fiend Who watches with me nightly. Jealousy? If it possessed me, mortal sickness, bonds, Nothing in heaven or hell, would hold me back From sating it with blood--with hers and his. But I will not be jealous, like poor souls, Whose vanity engrosses every thought, And calls itself nobility; not I. I will devise some vengeance, some just means, Some condign punishment, the world will praise, Thinking of me more highly than before This miserable time.

Enter Fife.

Fife. Brooding again! Pluck up some sprightliness, for I have news. Pembroke has routed Bruce in Methven wood, And captured many leading rebels. Bruce, Who showed himself a gallant warrior, Proved in retreat wise as a veteran, Escaping to the North. Buchan. My wife? Fife. They say That she and other ladies northward too In Nigel Bruce's charge escaped with speed. Buchan. And is this sure? Fife. I well believe it. Come, Question the man who told me. Buchan. If it's true We'll join our powers and hunt the rebels down Like noxious vermin, as they are. Fife. Be cool. What means this bitter passion? Buchan. Am I hot? But you'll combine with me? Fife. Assuredly: It is a noble chase; the quarry, game To wind us over Scotland. Tally-ho! Buchan. Now you are thoughtless. Come, the messenger. [They go out.