SCENE IV.

_The Village._

_Enter MARGARET, LA VARENNE, and PRINCE._

_Marg._ The northern coast beset!

_La Var._ Close watch'd with enemies:--'twere too bold a risk, That way to seek the sea: then bend your course Thro' Cumberland, so please you.---- At Solway Frith, we have warm friends, to favour Your embarkation--Sailing, thence to Galloway, With all convenient speed, we march towards Edinburgh; And thitherward, I learn, the king has fled: Where, in the bosom of the Scottish court, You may in safety sojourn, till the succour Which noble Burgundy, warm in beauty's cause, Once more, no doubt, will lend, again shall plume The wing of majesty.

_Marg._ Then, let sharp injury Subdue base minds alone; its scalding spirit, Pour'd in a royal breast, will quicken vengeance. Why, worthy Seneschal, there's hope in't still! Holds it not likely, When our dispersed nobility shall hear, We are again on foot, our royal standard Will be so flock'd with friends!---- Here comes the fellow, whom I told you of.

_Enter GONDIBERT, ADELINE, and GREGORY, behind._

Now, good friend, the news?

_Gondi._ Thus, as my spies inform me, madam:--Montague Has march'd right north; towards Dunstaburgh; hoping There to surprise your Majesty--

_Marg._ Let the fool on.-- This favours our intended march, through Cumberland. What else?

_Gondi._ No more; but that some twenty, Or thereabout, of your dispersed soldiers Are fall'n into my power. I have ventured, Finding, that, here, the village is attach'd, In honest bonds of loyalty, to direct My men to march them hither: if your course Should need a secret guard, these few will serve, When more were dangerous.

_Marg._ Oh, true, true fellow! Believe me, honest friend, of all the bolts, Which spiteful fortune hurls against my crown, None strike so deeply, as my poor ability Now to requite thy faith.

_Gondi._ The subject, madam, Who, in his poor endeavour, can relieve A sovereign from distress, they, who are loyal, Will pour down blessings on him; that requital Threefold o'erpays his services. But here, Heaven has, in pity of me, now pour'd balm Upon my bleeding sufferings.

_Marg._ What, my young warrior!

_Adeline._ A weak one, madam;--and a woman too. Your pardon, madam, if, to seek a husband,-- Happy has been my search--more than the cause, Altho' my heart is warm in't--brought me hither.

_Gondi._ Your guard approaches, madam, and the villagers,

_Enter KNIGHTS and SOLDIERS._

Anxious, in zeal, to see their royal mistress, In throngs have follow'd.

_Enter VILLAGERS, MALE and FEMALE, on each Side._

_Marg._ This is a cheering sight! Soon may this warmth be general; and may Henry Bask in its genial sunshine.--England, awhile, farewell! And if in future times--no doubt 'twill be so-- Thy King unite his people to his confidence, And his commanding virtues, mild, yet kingly, Shall draw the breath of rapturous loyalty From the gilt palace to the clay-built cottage, Then will thy realm, indeed, be enviable. Strike!----Then on.

_Procession of SOLDIERS, and Grand Chorus of VILLAGERS._

_Sea-girt England, fertile land!_ _Plenty, from her richest stores,_ _Ever, with benignant hand,_ _Her treasure on thy bosom pours._ _England! to thyself be true;_ _When thy realm is truly blest,_ _'Tis when a monarch's love for you_ _Is by your loyalty confest._

THE END.