Bruce. Look to our horses while we rest. [Squire goes out. Isabella. How far Are we before our friends? Bruce. See, they appear. Isabella. That little puff of dust? Bruce. Our company, Three miles away I think. The road is straight, And slopes to us. I hear a hoof--this side. Isabella. It is a solitary knight, but one Who need not fear to ride afar, alone, If I may trust a woman's hasty eye. He is dismounting; he unhelms, he bows; He seems to know you, and salute you king! Enter Sir James Douglas. Bruce. Douglas! I thought that Paris would retain For years to come the service of your youth. Douglas. You speak as one whom some transcending hap Has shown the high and secret worth of life; And such am I, or else discourtesy Alone had greeted me in what you said. Not with shrunk purse, drained veins, and heart dried-up; Will--broken-winded; pith-brains; sinews--straw, From Paris, which unstiffens many a one, Come I to Scotland, where is need of strength. A love of noble things--a kind of faith-- A hope, a wish, a thought above the world, Has swayed me from the mire; and yet I know It is a miracle I'm not more soiled. Bruce. I spoke unworthily of this reply, And gladly now unsay my hinted charge, Which, with less thought than commonplace, I made; Though I should utter nothing now but thought, For as you judged I see a soul in life. And what in Scotland do you think to do? Douglas. Retrieve my lands, avenge my father's death, And drive the English from its borders. Here I offer Scotland's king my lance, and here I vow to be his lady's loyal knight. You are amazed. They say, ill news spreads fast: He whom the tidings then will halcyon Knows of his weal as soon as he his woe. Is the news good to you that Bruce is king? Bruce. The news is good: best, that he's king of you. I wonder most at that. I stood in arms Against your father, and but yesterday I seemed the friend of England. Douglas. Yesterday Was once the date of every lasting change. While you are faithful to the land that's yours, I swear to serve you faithfully till death. Bruce. Another trusty friend when friends are few-- And such a friend! Welcome, a thousand times! Isabella. A happy handselling of our enterprise! What is the news from England? Have you heard If Wallace has been judged? Douglas. Not yet; but soon In Westminster he will be doomed to death; For victory, which oft ennobles kings, Debases Edward. Since he has not grace, The gracious-hearted world with one outcry Should claim the life of Wallace for its own, As the most noble life lived in this age, And not to be cut off by one man's hate. Bruce. The thought of Wallace troubles me. The truth That great men seldom in their times are known; And this that little men are eminent In midst of their thin lives and loud affairs,