Death's self shall sleep before my vengeance flags." Slowly retiring, with his face to her, He went. I have not seen him since till now. He was a young man then. [Voices within. Edward I. What noise is that? Clifford. A messenger, my lord, would force the door. Edward I. Whence comes he? Clifford. From the North, your majesty. Edward I. Admit him. Enter Messenger. Welcome, sir. Your news at once, Plainly and nakedly. Messenger. Comyn is dead: Slain in Dumfries by Bruce; whose party then, Led by the fiery Edward, mad as he, Attacked and seized the castle. On the day I left the North, in Scone, the Lady Buchan, The Bruce's paramour, Fife's sister, crowned Her murderous lover king. Some lords and knights Have gathered round him, and he lies at Perth. Edward I. Besotted fool! But it is well. Herein I see God's hand hardening the heart of Bruce Against me, who am but God's minister, That I may cut him off. I give God thanks. Wallace--What! has he swooned? Mallorie. He's in a trance. Wallace!--Well, this is strange!--Wallace! Wallace [starting]. My lords! Edward I. We'll countenance this mockery no more. All England and all Scotland--all the world Prejudge your fate. Wherefore we will not then Waste time in tedious processes of law To find you, as we know you, dyed in guilt, And leave another to pursue unchecked A course of similar iniquity. You for your treason are condemned to die The death that traitors merit. Lead him hence. Come after me, my lords, immediately, And take your charges for the North. [Edward I. goes out. Wallace is led away. Clifford. I think The king but whiled the time with Wallace here Till news should come from Scotland. Pembroke. With what haste He sentenced him! Percy. Yes; as a gamesome cat Diverted with a mouse, scenting another, Gobbles the captive quick. [All go out. ACT IV 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.