of my house and name; and you for you know not what – the miserable pride of opposition. Take your measures, my lord. I will not be mocked.’
Douglas left the apartment. Musgrave also arose and embraced his brother, and, as he parted from him, he spoke these ominous words: ‘Farewell, my dear Richard. May the angels that watch over honour be your guardians in the hour of trial. You know not what I have to endure from tormentors without and within. But hence we meet not again in this state of existence. The ties of love must be broken, and the bands of brotherly love burst asunder – nevertheless I will save you – A long farewell my brother.’
Musgrave was then conducted back to the draw-bridge, between two long files of soldiers as before, while all the musicians that belonged either to the army or the city were ranked up in a line behind them, on the top of the great precipice that overhangs the Teviot, playing, on all manner of instruments, ‘Turn the Blue Bonnets wha can, wha can,’ with such a tremendous din that one would have thought every stone in the walls of Roxburgh was singing out the bravado.
1 As there can be no doubt of the authenticity of this part of the Curate’s tale, these secret passages must have been carried under ground all the way from the castle to the junction of the two rivers; and it is said that a tradition still exists on the spot, that these vaulted paths have often been discovered by former inhabitants.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Quhat weywerde elfin thynge is thaten boie,
That hyngethe still upon myne gaire, as doeth
My synne of harte? And quhome rychte loth, I lofe
With not les hanckerynge. His locent eyne,
And his tungis maiter comethe on myne sense
Lyke a remembourance; or lyke ane dreime
That had delytis in it. Quhen I wolde say
‘Begone;’ lo then my tung mistakethe quyte,
Or fanceyinge not the terme, it sayethe ‘Come hidder,
Come hidder, crabbed boie, unto myne syde.’
Old Play
THAT EVENING, AFTER the departure of the noble and distressed Musgrave, Douglas was sitting all alone musing in a secret apartment of the pavilion, when he heard a gentle tap at the door. ‘Who’s there?’ inquired he surlily: ‘It is I, my lor’,’ said a petulant treble voice without. ‘Aha! my excellent nondescript little fellow, Colin Roy, is it you? Why, you may come in.’ Colin entered dressed in a most elegant and whimsical livery, and, forgetting himself, made the Douglas two or three graceful courtesies instead of bows.
‘Aye, hem,’ said he, ‘that’s very well for the page of a princess. I suppose you have been studying the graces from your accomplished mistress? But where have you been all this while? I have felt the loss of you from my hand grievously.’
‘I have been waiting on my royal mistress, my lor’, informing her of all that is going on at the siege, and of your good fortune in the late captures you have made, wherein she rejoices exceedingly, and wishes you all good fortune and forward success; and, in token of kind remembrance, she sends you this heart of ruby set in gold and diamonds – a gem that befits your lordship well to wear. And many more matters she has given me in charge, my lor’.’
Douglas kissed the locket, and put it in his bosom, and then uttered abundance of the extravagant bombast peculiar to that age. He called her his guardian angel, his altar of incense, and the saint of his devotion, the buckler of his arm, the sword in his hand, and the jewel of his heart. ‘Do you think, Colin,’ added he, ‘that ever there was a maiden born like this royal lady of my love?’
‘Why, my lor’, I am not much skilled in these matters, but I believe the wench, my mistress, is well enough; – that is, she is well formed. And yet she is but so so.’
‘How dare you, you piece of unparalleled impudence, talk of your royal mistress in that strain? Or where did you ever see a form or features so elegant, and so bewitchingly lovely?’
‘Do you think so? – Well, I’m glad of it. I think she is coarse and masculine. Where did I ever see such a form, indeed! Yes I have seen a much finer limb, and an arm, and a hand too! What think you of that for a hand, my lor’?’ – (and with that the urchin clapped his hand on the green table, first turning up the one side of it and then the other.) – ‘I say if that hand were as well kept, and that arm as well loaden with bracelets, and the fingers with diamond rings, it would be as handsome as your princess’s, of which you boast so much – aye, and handsomer too.’
‘You are a privileged boy, Colin, otherwise I would kick you heartily, and, moreover, cause you to be whipped by the hand of the common executioner. However, you are a confidant – all is well from you; and, to say the truth, yours is a very handsome hand for a boy’s hand – so is your arm. But what are they to those of my lovely and royal Margaret? – mere deformity! the husk to the wheat!’
‘Indeed, my lor’, you have an excellent taste, and a no less gifted discernment!’
‘I cannot conceive of any earthly being equalling my beauteous princess, whether in the qualifications of body or mind.’
‘I rejoice to hear it. How blind love is! Why, in sober reality, there is the Lady Jane Howard. Is there any comparison between the princess and that lady in beauty?’
‘She is, I confess, a most exquisite creature, Colin, even though rival to my adorable lady; in justice it must be acknowledged she is almost peerless in beauty. I do not wonder at Musgrave’s valour when I see the object of it. But why do you redden as with anger, boy, to hear my commendations of that hapless lady?’
‘I, my lord? How should I redden with anger? On my honour, craving my Lord Douglas’ pardon, I am highly pleased. I think she is much more beautiful than you have said, and that you should have spoken of her in a more superlative degree, and confessed frankly that you would willingly exchange your betrothed lady for her. I cannot chuse but think her very beautiful; too beautiful, indeed, with her blue eyes, white teeth, and ruddy lips. I don’t like such bright blue eyes. I could almost find in my heart to scratch them out, she is so like a wanton. So you don’t wonder at Lord Musgrave’s valour, after having seen his mistress? Well, I advise your lordship, your captainship, and your besiegership, that there are some who wonder very much at your want of valour. I tell you this in confidence. My mistress thinks you hold her charms only at a small avail, that you have not gone into that castle long ago, and turned out these Englishmen, or hung them up by the necks if they refused. Musgrave went in and took it at once, for the favour of his mistress; because, forsooth, he deemed her worthy of the honour of such a bold emprize. Why, then, do not you do the same? My mistress, to be sure, is a woman – a very woman; but she says this, that it is superabundantly ungallant of you not to have gone in and taken possession of the castle long ago. Do you know that (poor kind creature!) she has retired to a convent, where she continues in a state of sufferance, using daily invocations at the shrines of saints for your success. And she has, moreover, made a vow not to braid her hair, nor dress herself in princely apparel until the day of your final success. Surely, my lor’, you ought to take that castle, and relieve my dear mistress from this durance. I almost weep when I think of her, and must say with her that she has been shabbily used, and that she has reason to envy Lady Jane Howard even in her captivity.’
‘Colin, you are abundantly impertinent: but there is no stopping of your tongue once it is set a-going. As to the taking of castles, these things come not under the cognizance of boys or women. But indeed I knew not that my sovereign lady the princess had absconded from the courtly circle of her father’s palace, and betaken herself to a convent on my account. Every thing that I hear of that jewel endears her to me the more.’
‘What? even her orders for you to go into the castle, and put out the English? I assure you, my lor’, she insists upon it. Whether it is her impatience to