Death you have often faced; Justice you shall see once. Edward I. Stay, Mallorie. We'll tutor this heroic insolence. The observant world has notched the life of man, And three main periods indicate three powers Whose dreadful might directs our very stars. These powers take reason's throne, the intellect. First, love usurps, like Saturn come again-- Whose orb is yet man's most malignant foe-- Turning the sad, outlandish time of youth Into a golden age. Ambition rules With godly sway the second period, And marshals man's capacity to war Against the evils that beset him most, And win what things of worship he desires. Prudence, which none but old men understand To be the strongest tyrant of the three, Reigns lastly, making peace with God and man: Securing acquisitions; peering forth Into the future, like a mariner, Whose freight is landed in a foreign port, With wistful homeward gaze, but eager yet To see his merchandise disposed of well: And reason, which should rule, most cheerfully Accepts the ministry beneath these kings: That is the chronicle of noble men. The sun gleams lurid through a rotting fog, And those pure powers that shine in lucent souls, Clear, as if lanterned only by the air, In natures base, burn with a murky flame, As lust, concupiscence, and avarice: And reason, mad with degradation, toils Unwillingly in slavish offices. Now comes my application. Cruel, vain, Intolerant, unjust, false, murderous, You, Wallace--rebel, outlaw, hangman, fool, Incendiary, reiver, ravisher-- You are the serf of vile concupiscence-- Yea, of the vilest famine--hungry greed Of notoriety!--the commonest, The meanest, lewdest, gauntest appetite, That drives the ignoble to extremity! No sooner had we quarried painfully Forth of that chaos left by your King John, A corner-stone for righteous government, Than you and other itching malcontents With gothic hands o'erturned the fane of peace And on your groaning land brought heathen war, That you might win the name of patriot. Again I built up order; and again You overthrew my government, and caused Your fatherland--heroic patriot!-- From Tweed to Moray Firth to swim in blood, Before divine authority could rule. Still you rebelled; for you must stand alone-- And think not, lords, I over-rate the strength Of this delirious thirst for some repute-- Though nobles, knights, burgesses, yeomen, priests, Yea, every Scot, well-pleased, acknowledged us, You--cast-off guardian--dog that had his day-- Alone, unfriended, starving in the wilds, Held there aloof, and signalised your night By howling for that moon you almost clutched, A tyrant's power, calling it liberty: For that was still behind your lust of fame. Mallorie. You're silent now. A Lord. Silence becomes him well. This just exposure stills his shameful voice. Wallace. Seeing how your rage leapt from your lips in lies, King, I bethink me ere I make reply, Lest I, too, throw the truth. Edward I.