Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume XXIV. by Revised by Alexander Leighton

R >> Revised by Alexander Leighton >> Wilson\'s Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume XXIV.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

_Sir Alex_.--Fear not, good provost; I through life have learned
To live with honour, or with honour fall.

_Richard_.--And as the father dies, so shall his sons. What
sayest thou, Henry?

_Henry_.--I would say but this--
(If one with a smooth chin may have a voice)--
When thou dost nobly fall, I'll but survive
To strike revenge--then follow thy example.

_Provost Ramsay_.--Bravely said, callants! As sure as
death, I wish ye were my sons! Do ye ken, Sir Alexander, the
only thing that grieves me in a day like this, is, that I hae
naebody to die for the glory an' honour o' auld Scotland but
mysel? But, save us, neebor Elliot! ye look as douf an' as
dowie-like as if ye had been forced to mak yer breakfast o' yer
coat-sleeve.

_Hugh Elliot_.---In truth, methinks, this is no time for smiles--
In every street, each corner of the town,
Struck by some unseen hand, the dead are strewed;
From every house the children's wail is heard,
Screaming in vain for food; and the poor mother,
Worn to a skeleton, sits groaning by!
My house, 'tis known, o'erlooks the battlements;
'Tis not an hour gone that I left my couch,
Hastening to speed me hither, when a sound,
Fierce as the thunders, shook our firm-built walls:
The casements fell in atoms, and the bed,
Which I that moment left, rocked in confusion:
I turned to gaze on it, and I beheld!--beheld
My wife's fair bosom torn--her heart laid bare!
And the red stream came oozing to my feet!
_Is this a time for smiles!_

_Provost Ramsay_.--Your wife! Heaven preserve us! Weel,
after a', I hae reason to be thankfu' I hae neither wife nor
bairns on a day like this!

_Sir Alex_.--Behold an envoy from the English camp,
Sent with proposals, or some crafty truce.

_Hugh Elliot_.--Let me entreat you, then, most noble sir,
Give him all courtesy; and if his terms
Be such as we in honour may accept,
Refuse them not by saying, WE WILL DIE.

_Enter_ EARL PERCY _and_ Attendants.

_Percy_.--Good morrow, my Scotch cousins!
My gracious sovereign, your right lawful master,
Hath, in his mercy, left you these conditions--
Now to throw wide your gates, and, if ye choose,
Go walk into the Tweed, and drown your treason;
Or run, like scapegoats, to the wilderness,
Bearing your sins, and half a week's provision;
Or, should these terms not meet your approbation,
Ere midnight we shall send some _fleeter messengers_.
So now, old Governor, my master's answer?

_Provost Ramsay_.--The mischief's in your impudence! But
were I Sir Alexander, the only answer your master should hae,
would be your weel-bred tongue sent back upon the end o' an
arrow; an' that wad be as _fleet a messenger_, as ye talk
about _fleet messengers_, as ony I ken o'.

_Percy_.--Peace, thou barbarian! keep thy frog's throat closed.
I say, old greybeard, hast thou found an answer?

_Sir Alex_.--Had my Lord Percy found more fitting
phrase
To couch his haughty mandate, I perhaps
Had found some meet reply. But as it is,
Thou hast thine answer in this people's eyes.

_Hugh Elliot_.--Since we with life and honour may depart,
Send not an answer that must seal our ruin,
Though it be hero-like to talk of death.

[_Enter_ LADY SETON, _listening_.

Bethink thee well, Sir Governor: these men
Have wives with helpless infants at their breasts;
What husband, think ye, would behold a child
Dashed from the bosom where his head had pillowed,
That his fair wife might fill a conqueror's arms!
These men have parents--feeble, helpless, old;
Yea, men have daughters!--they have maids that love them--
Daughters and maidens chaste as the new moon--
Will they behold them screaming on the streets,
And in the broad day be despoiled by violence?
Think of _these things_, my countrymen! [_Aside to_ PERCY,
Now, my Lord Percy, you may read your answer.

_Percy [aside]_.--So thou art disaffected, good Sir Orator:
Well, ply thy wits, and Edward will reward thee--
Though, for my part, I'd knight thee with a halter!

_Sir Alex_.--Is this thy counsel in the hour of peril,
Milk-hearted man? To thee, and all like thee,
_I_ offer terms more _generous_ still than Edward's:
Depart ye by the Scotch or English gate--
Both shall be opened. Lade your beasts of burden--
Take all you have--your food, your filthy gold,
Your wives, your children, parents, and yourselves!
Go to our Scottish king, and prate of courage!
Or go to Edward--Percy will conduct thee.

[LADY SETON _advances forward_.

_Lady Seton_.--Spoke like thyself, my husband!
Out on thee, slave! [_To_ ELLIOT.
Or shall I call thee traitor? What didst thou,
On finishing thy _funeral service_, whisper
In my Lord Percy's ear?

_Elliot_.--I whisper, lady?

_Lady Seton_.--You whisper, smooth-tongued sir!

_Percy [aside]._--Zounds! by the coronet of broad Northumberland,
Could I exchange it for fair England's crown,
I'd have my bodyguard of woman's eyes,
And make the whole sex sharpshooters!

_Provost Ramsay_.--Wae's me! friend Elliot, but you have an
unco dumfoundered-like look after that speech o' yours in
defence o' liberty, and infants, and fair bosoms, maiden
screams, and grey hairs, and what not.

_Sir Alex_.--Percy, we hear no terms but death or liberty.
This is our answer.

_Percy_.--Well, cousins, be it so. The wilful dog--
As runs the proverb. Lady, fare-ye-well. [_Exit_.

_Sir Alex_.--On with me, friends--on to the southern ramparts!
There, methinks, they meditate a breach. On, Scotsmen! on--
For Freedom and for Scotland! [_Exeunt_.

SCENE II.--_Town Ramparts_.

_Enter_ SIR ALEXANDER, RICHARD, HENRY, PROVOST RAMSAY, HUGH
ELLIOT, _and_ Populace.

_Sir Alex_.--To-day, my townsmen, I shall be your leader;
And though my arms may lack their wonted vigour,
Here are my pledges [_pointing to his sons_] placed on either side,
That seal a triumph youth could never reap.
To-day, my sons, beneath a father's eye,
Oh give such pride of feeling to his heart
As shall outshame the ardour of his youth,
And nerve his arm with power strong as his zeal!

[_Exeunt all save_ HUGH ELLIOT.

_Elliot_.--Thanks to my destiny!--the hour is come--
The wished-for hour of vengeance on mine enemy!--
Heavens! there is neither nobleness nor virtue.
Nor any quality that beggars boast not,
But he and his smooth sons have swallowed up;
And all the world must mouth their bravery!---
I owe a debt to Scotland and to him,
And I'll repay it--I'll repay it now!
This letter will I shoot to Edward's camp;
And now, ere midnight, I'm revenged--revenged!

[LADY SETON _appears from the window of the castle_, as
ELLIOT _is fixing a letter on an arrow_.

_Lady Seton_ [_from the window_].--Hold, traitor! hold,
Or, by the powers above us, this very hour
Your body o'er these battlements shall hang
For your fair friends to shoot at!

[ELLIOT _drops the bow_.

_Elliot_ [_aside_].--Now fleet destruction seize the
lynx-eyed fiend--
Trapped in the moment that insured success!
Thank fate--my dagger's left!--she has a son!

_Lady Seton_.--Go, worthless recreant, and in thickest fight
Blot out thy guilty purpose: know thy life
Depends on this day's daring; and its deeds
And wounds alone, won in the onset's brunt,
Secures my silence.

_Elliot_.--You wrong me, noble lady.

_Lady Seton_.--Away! I'll hear thee not, nor let my ears
List to the accents of a traitor's tongue. [_Exit_ ELLIOT.

SCENE III.--_An Apartment in_ KING EDWARD'S _Tent._

_Enter_ EDWARD _and_ PERCY.

_Edward_.--Well, my Lord Percy, thou hast made good speed.
What say these haughty burghers to our clemency?

_Percy_.--In truth, your Grace, they are right _haughty_
burghers.
One wondrous civil gentleman proposed
To write his answer on your servant's tongue--
Using his sword as clerks might do a quill--
Then thrust it on an arrow for a post-boy!

_Edward_.--Such service he shall meet. What said their
governor?

_Percy_.--Marry! the old boy said I was no gentleman,
And bade me read my answer in the eyes
Of--Heaven defend me!--such a squalid crew!
One looked like death run from his winding sheet;
Another like an ague clothed in rags;
A third had something of the human form,
But every bone was cursing at its fellow.
Now, though I vow that I could read my fate
In every damsel's eyes that kissed a moonbeam,
I've yet to learn the meaning of the words
Wrote on the eyeballs of his vellum-spectres,
But the old man is henpecked!

_Edward_.--Prythee, Lord Percy, lay thy fool's tongue by,
And tell thy meaning plainly.

_Percy_.--Nay, pardon me, your majesty; I wot
Your servant is the fool his father made him,
And the most dutiful of all your subjects.

_Edward_.--We know it, Percy. But what of his wife?

_Percy_.--Why, if the men but possess half her spirit,
You might besiege these walls till you have counted
The grey hairs on the child that's born next June.

_Edward_.--And was this all?

_Percy_.--Nay, there was one--a smooth-tongued oily man--
A leader of the citizens; and one
Who measures out dissension by the rood:
He is an orator, and made a speech
Against the governor: the people murmured;
And one or two cried out, "Behold an Antony!"
But he's a traitor; and I'd hang all traitors!

_Edward_.--Ha!--then doth the devil, Disaffection,
With his fair first-born, Treason, smooth our path.
So we have friends within the citadel.
Sent they no other answer?

_Percy_.--I did expect me to have brought the whole,
Like half-clothed beggars bending at my heels,
To crave your Grace's succour; but, behold,
Ere I could bid them home for a clean shirt,
That they might meet your majesty like Christians,
Out stepped her ladyship, and with a speech
Roused up the whole to such a flood of feeling
That I did well 'scape drowning in the shout
Of Scotland and Seton!--Seton and Scotland!--Then
did she turn and ask me, "Are you answered?"
I said I was!--and they did raise a cry
Of _Death or Liberty_!

_Edward_.--They shall have it--death in its fullest meaning.
Haste, ply our cannon on the opening breach.
Forth!--they attack the camp! Now, drive them back,
Break through their gate and guards,
Till all be ours! [_Exeunt_

SCENE IV.--_The Ramparts_.

_Scots driven through the gates in confusion_.

_Sir Alex_.--Woe to thee, Elliot! this defeat is thine.
Where was the caution ye but preached this morn,
That ye should madly break our little band,
And rush on certain ruin? Fie on thee, man!
That such an old head is so young a soldier!
Here, guard this breach, defend it to the last;
Henry shall be thy comrade. On, my friends!
They cross the river, and the northern gate
Will be their next attack.

_Elliot_ [_aside_].--"Woe to thee, Elliot! this defeat is
thine!"
So says our Governor! 'Tis true!--_'twas_ mine!
Though I have failed me in my firm, fixed purpose,
Once more he's thrown revenge within my grasp;
And I will clutch it--clutch it firmly, too;
I _guard_ the breach! and with his son to assist me!
The Fates grow kind! The _breach!_ he said the _breach!_
And gave his son up to the power of Edward!

_Henry_.--Why stand ye musing there? _Here_ lies your
duty!

_Elliot_ [_aside_].--'Tis true! 'tis true! _my
duty_ DOES _lie there!_

_Henry_.--Follow me, Elliot. See--they scale the walls!
A moment lost, and they have gained the battlement.

_Shouting_.--PERCY _and_ Followers _leap upon the
battlement_.

_Percy_.--On! followers, on!--for Edward and for England!

_Henry_.--Have at thee, Percy, and thy followers, too!
For Freedom and for Scotland! On, Elliot! on!
Wipe out the morning's shame.

_Elliot_ [_aside_].--Have at thee, boy, for insult and
revenge!

[ELLIOT _strikes_ HENRY'S _sword from his hand_.

_Henry_.--Shame on thee, traitor! are we thus betrayed?

[Percy's Followers _make_ HENRY _prisoner_.

_Elliot_.--Thank Heaven! thank Heaven!--one then is in their grasp!
A truce, Lord Percy. See thy prisoner safe,
Ere his mad father sound a rescue--off!
Thou wouldst not draw thy sword upon a friend?

[SIR ALEXANDER, RICHARD, PROVOST RAMSAY, _and others, enter
hurriedly_.

_Sir Alex_.--Thanks, Elliot! thanks! You have done nobly!--thanks!
Where is your comrade?--speak--where is my son?

_Elliot_.--Would he had been less valiant--less brave!

_Sir Alex_.--What! is he dead, my good, my gallant boy?
Where is his body? show me--where? oh, where?

_Richard_.--Where is my brother? tell me how he fell?

_Elliot_.--Could I with my best blood have saved the youth,
Ye are all witnesses that I would have done it.

_Provost Ramsay_.--Indeed, Mr. Elliot, if ye refer to me,
I'm witness to naething o' the kind; for it is my solemn
opinion, a' the execution your sword did was as feckless as a
winnle-strae.

_Sir Alex_.--Where is my poor boy's body?

_Elliot_.--I did not say he died.

_Richard_.--Not dead!

_Sir Alex_.--Not say he died?

_Elliot_.--See yonder group now hurrying to the camp,
And shouting as they run. He is their prisoner!
[_Aside_] Feed ye, friends, on that.

_Sir Alex_.--Cold-blooded man! them never wert a father.
The tyrant is! he knows a father's heart;
And he will play the butcher's part with mine!
Each day inflicting on me many deaths,
Knowing right well I am his twofold prisoner;
For on the son's head he'll repay, with interest,
The wrongs the father did him!
"He is their prisoner," saidst thou?" Is their prisoner!"
Thou hast no sons!--none!--I forgive thee, Elliot!

_Elliot_.--Deeply I crave your pardon, noble sir;
Pity for you, and love for Scotland, made me
That I was loath to speak the unwelcome tidings;
Fearful that to attempt his rescue now,
Had so cut off our few remaining troops,
As seal immediate ruin.

_Provost Ramsay_ [_aside_].--Preserve us a'! hear
that. Weel, to be sure, it's a true saying, "Satan never lets
_his_ saunts be at a loss for an answer!"

SCENE V.--_Apartment in_ EDWARD'S _Tent._

_Enter_ EDWARD _and_ PERCY.

_Edward_.--How fares it with these stubborn rebels now?
Do they still talk of death as of a bridal,
While we protract the ceremony?

_Percy_.--I learn, my liege, we've got two glorious allies--
Two most right honourable gentlemen--
Aiding the smooth-tongued orator:
_Disease_ and _Famine_ have espoused our cause,
And the said traitor Elliot is their oracle.

_Edward_.--Touching this man, we have advice from him,
In which he speaketh much concerns the wants
And murmurings of the citizens: he, too,
Adds, they hold out expecting help from Douglas,
And recommendeth that we should demand
The other son of Seton as a hostage,
In virtue of a truce for fourteen days:
This is his snare. The sons once in his power,
Their father yields, or both hang up before him.

_Percy_.--'Tis monstrous generous of our friendly Scot;
And what return expects he for his service?

_Edward_.--On giving up the father's head--his place.

_Percy_.--I fear the lady will have his head first.
Did you but see her eyes!
I'd bet my coronet 'gainst our friar's cowl,
Man wink not treason in his bedchamber
But she detect it. Then her ears, again;
'Sdeath! she can hear the very sound of light
As it does steal, i' the morning, through her curtains.
Should our _friend_ wear his head another week,
His neck, I'll swear, is not as other men's are.

_Edward_.--How fares it with the son, our silent prisoner?

_Percy_.--Poor soul, he leans his head against the wall,
And stands with his arms thus--across his breast--
Pale as a gravestone, gnashing at his teeth,
And looking on his guards just as his mother would!

_Edward_.--'Tis now the hour that Elliot has proposed
To stir the townsmen up to mutiny.
Take our conditions, and _whatever_ you please;
Get but the son as hostage!--get but that!
And both shall die a thief's death if he yield not;
He is a father, Percy--he's a father!
The town is ours, and at an easy purchase. _[Exit_

_Percy_.--And she's a mother, Edward! she's a mother!
Ay! and a mother; I will pledge my earldom,
And be but plain Hal Percy all my life,
If she despise not gallows, death, and children,
And earn for thee a crown of shame, my master!
In sooth, I am ashamed to draw my sword,
Lest I should see my face in its bright blade;
For sure my mother would not know her son,
As he goes blushing on his hangman's errand.

SCENE VI.--_A Street_--_the Market-place.

Enter_ ELLIOT _and_ Populace.

_Elliot_--You heard, my townsmen, how our gracious governor
Did talk to us of honour--! you all heard him!
Can any of you tell us what is _honour?
He_ drinks his wine, _he_ feeds on beeves and capons;
_His_ table groans beneath a load of meats;
_His_ hounds, _his_ hawks, are fed like Christian men!
_He_ sleeps in a downy couch, o'erhung with purple;
And these, all these are _honourable_ doings!
He talks of _liberty_!
Is it, then, _liberty_ to be cooped up
Within these prison walls, to starve from want,
That we may have the liberty--mark it, my friends!--
The wondrous _liberty_ to call him _Governor_?
Had ye the hearts or hands your fathers had,
You'd to the castle, take the keys by force,
And ope the gates to let your children live.
Here comes your provost--now appeal to him.

_Enter_ PROVOST RAMSAY.--_The people demand bread_.

_Provost Ramsay_.--Gie you food!--your bairns dee wi'
hunger!--and ye maun hae bread! It is easy saying, Gie ye! but
where am I to get it? Do you think there's naebody finds the
grund o' their stamachs but yersels? I'm sure I hae been blind
fastin' these four-and-twenty hours! But wad ye no suffer this,
and ten times mair for liberty, and for the glory and honour of
auld Scotland?

_Elliot [to the people]_.--He, too, can cant of
_liberty_ and _honour_!

_Provost Ramsay_.--I say, Mr. Hypocrite! it is my fixed and
solemn opinion that ye are at the bottom o' this murmuring. I
ken ye're never at a loss for an answer; and there is anither
wee bit affair I wad just thank ye to redd up. Do ye mind what a
fine story ye made in this very market-place the ither week,
about getting ower the bed--and your wife's bosom being torn
bare--and the blood gushing to your feet, and a' the rest o't?
Do ye mind o' that, sir? Do ye mind o' that? I daresay,
townsmen, ye've no forgot it? Now, sir, it's no aboon ten
minutes sine, that the poor creature--wha, according to your
account, was dead and buried--got loose frae her confinement,
and cam fleeing to me for protection, as a man and a magistrate,
to save her frae the cruelty o' you, you scoundrel. Now, what
say ye to that, sir? What say ye to that? What do you think o'
your orator now, friends?

_Elliot_.--'Tis false, my friends--'Tis but a wicked calumny devised
Against the only man who is your friend.

_Provost Ramsay_.--Saftly, neebor, saftly! have a care how
ye gie the lee to what I say; or, it is my solemn opinion, this
bit sword o' my faither's may stap you frae gien it till
anither.

_Enter_ SIR ALEXANDER _and_ RICHARD.

Ye are weel come, Sir Alexander: here is Orator Elliot been
makin' a harangue to the townsfolk; and ane cries for bread, and
anither for meal--that it is my opinion I dinna ken what's to be
done.

_Sir Alex_.--What would you have? what is it that you wish?
Would ye, for food, sweet friends, become all slaves;
And for a meal, that ye might surfeit on it,
Give up your wives, your homes, and all that's dear,
To the brute arms of men, who hold it virtue
To heap their shame upon a fallen foe?
Would ye, that ye might eat, yet not be satisfied,
Pick up the scanty crumbs around their camp,
After their cattle and their dogs have left them;
Or would ye, for this favour, be content
To take up arms against your countrymen!--
For this! will fathers fight against their sons?--
Sons 'gainst their fathers?--brethren with each other?
Those who would wish it may go o'er to Edward!

_[Sound of French horns without_

_Provost Ramsay_.--Ay, here comes mair proposals--the sorry
proposal them! I wish them and proposals an' a' were in the
middle o' the Tweed.

_Enter_ EARL PERCY _and_ Attendants.

_Percy_.--Save ye, my band of heroes; by St. Cuthbert,
Your valorous deeds have wrought a miracle,
And turned my master's hatred into mercy;
For, deeming it a sin that such brave fellows
Should die a beggar's vulgar death from want,
He doth propose to drop hostilities,
And for two weeks you may command our friendship:
If in that time you gain no aid from Scotland,
Renounce the country, and be Edward master;
But, should you gain assistance--why, then, we
Will raise the siege, and wish you all good-bye.

_Elliot [to the people]_.--Urge the acceptance, friends, of
these conditions.

_Omnes_.--We all accept these terms.

_Sir Alex_.--It is the people's wish; and I agree.

_Percy_.--And you, in pledge of due performance, sir,
Do give up this your son into our hands,
In surety for your honour------

_Sir Alex_.--What! my son!
Give him up too--yield him into your power?
Have ye not one already?--No! no! no!
I cannot, my Lord Percy; no, I cannot
Part with him too, and leave their mother childless!

_Provost Ramsay_.--Wad ye no tak me as a substitute, Lord
Percy? I'm a man o' property, and chief magistrate beside; now,
I should think, I'm the maist likely person.

_Percy_.--Good master magistrate and man of property,
I like thy heart, but cannot take thy person.
Give up the youth, or here must end my truce!

_Richard_.--Fear not, my father. I will be their hostage,
For Scotland's sake, and for my father's honour--

_Sir Alex_.--My boy, my boy, and shall I lose you thus?
What surety does cruel Edward give,
That, keeping faith, he will restore my sons
Back to my arms in safety? Tell me, Percy;
Gives he his honour as a man or king?

_Percy_.--As both, I hold it.

_Sir Alex_.--And wilt thou pledge thine?

_Percy_.--This is my master's business, and not mine.

_Sir Alex_.--'Tis an evasion, and I like it not.

_Richard_.--Farewell! farewell, my father! be the first
To teach these men the virtue of self-sacrifice.
Commend me to my mother. I will bear
Both of your best loves to our Henry.
Farewell! Lead on, Lord Percy. [_Exeunt_.

SCENE VII.--_Apartment in_ SETON'S _House_.

_Enter_ SIR ALEXANDER, PROVOST RAMSAY, HUGH ELLIOT, _and
others_.

_Sir Alex_.--Would Heaven that all go well with my dear boys!
But there's that within me that does tear
My bosom with misgivings. The very sun
To me hangs out a sign of ominous gloom!
A spirit seems to haunt me, and the weight
Of evil undefined, and yet unknown,
Doth, like a death's-hand, press upon my heart.

_Provost Ramsay_.--Hoot, I wad fain think that the warst is
past, and that there is nae danger o' onything happenin' now.
But do ye ken, sir, it is my fixed and solemn opinion, that,
before onything really is gaun to happen to a body, or to ony o'
their friends, like, there is a kind o' something comes ower
ane--a sort o' sough about the heart there--an' ye dinna ken
what for.

_Sir Alex_.--Have ye beheld how they are raising bastions,
Flanking fresh cannon, too, in front the town,
Gaining new reinforcements to their camp,
And watching all our outgoings? Do you think
This looks as Edward meant to keep his faith?
I am betrayed, my friends--I am betrayed.
Fear marcheth quickly to a father's breast--
My sons are lost! are lost!

_Provost Ramsay_.--It's true that King Edward's
preparations, and his getting sic fearfu' additions to his army,
doesna look weel. But what is a king but his word mair than a
man?

_Enter_ Servant.

_Servant_.--Lord Percy craves an audience with your honour.

_Sir Alex_.--Conduct him hither. 'Tis as I boded!

[_Exit_ Servant--_enter_ PERCY.

You look grave, my lord.

_Percy_.--Faith, if I can look grave, to-day I should:
None of my mother's children, gossips said,
Were born with a sad face; but I could wish
That I had never smiled, or that her maid
Had been my mother, rather than that I
Had been the bearer of this day's vile tidings.

_Sir Alex_.--'Tis of my sons!--what! what of them, Lord Percy?
What of them?

_Percy_.--Yes, 'tis of your sons I'd speak!--
They live--they're well!--can you be calm to hear me?
I _would_ speak of your sons.

_Sir Alex_.--I feel!--I feel!
I understand you, Percy! you WOULD speak of my sons!--
Go, thrust thy head into a lion's den,
Murder its whelps, and say to it, _Be calm_!
Be calm! and feel a dagger in thy heart!
'Twas kindly said!--kind! kind! to say, _Be calm_!
I'm calm, Lord Percy! what--what of my sons?

_Percy_.--If I can tell thee, and avoid being choked--
Choked with my shame and loathing--I will tell thee!
But each particular word of this black mission
Is like a knife thrust in between my teeth.

_Sir Alex_.--Torture me not, my lord, but speak the worst;
My ears can hear--my heart can hold no more!

_Enter_ LADY SETON.

_Percy_.--Hear them in as few words as I can tell it:
Edward hath sworn, and he will keep his vow,
That if to-day ye yield not up the town,
Become his prisoners, break your faith with Scotland,
Ye with the morning dawn shall see your sons
Hung up before your windows. He hath sworn it;
And, by my earldom--faith as a Christian--
Honour as a peer--he will perform it!

_Lady Seton [aside]_.--Ruler of earth and heaven! a mother begs
Thy counsel--Thy protection! Say I _mother_!
No voice again shall call me by that name--
Both! both my boys!

_Sir Alex_.--Ha! my Matilda!
Thou here! Dry up thy tears, my love! dry up thy tears!
I cannot sacrifice both sons and mother!
Alas, my country! I must sell thee dearly!
My faith--mine honour too!--take--take them, Percy!
I am a father, and my sons shall live!--
Shall _live_! and I shall _die_! [_Unsheathing his sword_.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14