Come, let us set our soldiers in a glow! After the abbot says the battle mass, I'll speak to them, and touch them with a flame. Douglas. They'll burn. Edward Bruce. They'll make a bonfire. Walter the Steward. To announce That Scotland's liberty's of age. Bruce. Well roared, My lioncel! [They go out. SCENE III.--The Field of Bannockburn. Enter Edward II., the Earl of Pembroke, Sir Giles De Argentine, Sir Ingram De Umfraville, with other Lords and Knights, in advance of the English lines. Edward II. Will yon men fight? Umfraville. Ay, siccarly. My liege, If you will hear an old man's humble word Who knows the Scotchmen well, feign a retreat: Then will these fiery children of the North-- Children they are in every gift save strength, And most in guileless daring--rush on us, Leaving their vantage, and be overcome Utterly, as in many a fight before. Edward II. I'm a young warrior, and I mean to win By dint of strength, and not by strategy. To sneak a victory I came not north; But in a lordly way to overthrow The base usurper of my lordship here. Leave paltry sleights and fawnings upon chance To starveling rebels, keen as hungry curs That dodge the whip, and steal the bone at once. Think you we brought our friends across the sea To juggle with them? We are here to fight, As in the lists, like gentlemen. My lords, I give you Scotland. Nothing for myself Save sovereignty I claim: and that must be Not snared by ambush, for assassins fit, But seized by courage, frank and English. Pembroke. Sire, One reason only urges strategy: Adopting it, less English blood will flow. Edward II. That touches me. De Argentine. And it is kindly thought. But I have heard the Scotsmen plume themselves On victory over any English odds, In battles, pitched, embroiled, and hand to hand; That we have never vanquished them in fight Except when treachery assisted arms. Conquest unchallengeable, dearly bought Were worth its cost. A wily victory Would leave our foes unhumbled, unappeased, And confident of ultimate success. Edward II. This is the wisest counsel. Umfraville. Hear me yet. What warrior is wilier than Bruce? The schiltron he has perfected: no knights Can break the Scottish spearmen: chivalry Means nought for them save mounted foes whose trust Is in their horses---- Edward II. 'Tis a base device, This slaughter of our steeds! A dastard's trick! The delicate art of war, where excellence Lay in the power of noble blood alone, He makes a trade for ploughmen. Battle-fields Are shambles since this rebel taught his clowns To fear not knighthood! Umfraville. True indeed, my liege! And some have thought that this new style of war Will drive the other out. But see you not That every possible advantage---- Edward II. No!