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!