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 le