[Enter the Countess.] COUNTESS. Alas, how much in vain my poor eyes gaze For succour that my sovereign should send! Ah, cousin Mountague, I fear thou wants The lively spirit, sharply to solicit With vehement suit the king in my behalf: Thou dost not tell him, what a grief it is To be the scornful captive of a Scot, Either to be wooed with broad untuned oaths, Or forced by rough insulting barbarism; Thou doest not tell him, if he here prevail, How much they will deride us in the North, And, in their wild, uncivil, skipping gigs, Bray forth their Conquest and our overthrow Even in the barren, bleak, and fruitless air. [Enter David and Douglas, Lorrain.] I must withdraw, the everlasting foe Comes to the wall; I’ll closely step aside, And list their babble, blunt and full of pride. KING DAVID. My Lord of Lorrain, to our brother of France Commend us, as the man in Christendom That we most reverence and entirely love. Touching your embassage, return and say, That we with England will not enter parley, Nor never make fair weather, or take truce; But burn their neighbor towns, and so persist With eager Rods beyond their City York. And never shall our bonny riders rest, Nor rusting canker have the time to eat Their light borne snaffles nor their nimble spurs, Nor lay aside their Jacks of Gymould mayle, Nor hang their staves of grained Scottish ash In peaceful wise upon their City walls, Nor from their buttoned tawny leathern belts Dismiss their biting whinyards, till your King Cry out: Enough, spare England now for pity! Farewell, and tell him that you leave us here Before this Castle; say, you came from us, Even when we had that yielded to our hands. LORRAIN. I take my leave, and fairly will return Your acceptable greeting to my king. [Exit Lorrain.] KING DAVID. Now, Douglas, to our former task again, For the division of this certain spoil. DOUGLAS. My liege, I crave the Lady, and no more. KING DAVID. Nay, soft ye, sir; first I must make my choice, And first I do bespeak her for my self. DOUGLAS. Why then, my liege, let me enjoy her jewels. KING DAVID. Those are her own, still liable to her, And who inherits her, hath those with all. [Enter a Scot in haste.] MESSENGER. My liege, as we were pricking on the hills, To fetch in booty, marching hitherward, We might descry a might host of men; The Sun, reflecting on the armour, shewed A field of plate, a wood of picks advanced. Bethink your highness speedily herein: An easy march within four hours will bring The hindmost rank unto this place, my liege. KING DAVID. Dislodge, dislodge! it is the king of England. DOUGLAS. Jemmy, my man, saddle my bonny black. KING DAVID. Meanst thou to fight, Douglas? we are too weak. DOUGLAS. I know it well, my liege, and therefore fly. COUNTESS. My Lords of Scotland, will ye stay and drink? KING DAVID. She mocks at us, Douglas; I cannot endure it.