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.