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.