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ARGYLL.

Pass on, I pray you; till the feast be ready,

Rest ye above, where all things are prepared
For your refreshment. (Exeunt.)

SCENE II. A narrow arched Room or Closet, adjoining to a Gallery.

Enter Lochtarish and Glenfadden.

LOCHTARISH.

How lik'st thou this, Glenfadden? Doth the face

Argyll assumes, of studied courtesy,
Raise no suspicion?

GLENFADDEN.

Faith, I know not well!—

The speech, indeed, with which he welcomed us,
Too wordy, and too artificial seem'd
To be the native growth of what he felt.

LOCHTARISH.

It so to me appear'd: and John of Lorne,

First shrinking from Maclean, with sudden pain,
As he pretended, struck, then stern and silent,
Till presently assuming, like his father,
A courtesy, minute, and over-studied,