_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 letter will I shoot to Edward's camp; And now, ere midnight, I'm revenged--revenged! [LADY SETON _appears from the window of the castle_, as ELLIOT _is fixing a letter on an arrow_. _Lady Seton_ [_from the window_].--Hold, traitor! hold, Or, by the powers above us, this very hour Your body o'er these battlements shall hang For your fair friends to shoot at! [ELLIOT _drops the bow_. _Elliot_ [_aside_].--Now fleet destruction seize the lynx-eyed fiend-- Trapped in the moment that insured success! Thank fate--my dagger's left!--she has a son! _Lady Seton_.--Go, worthless recreant, and in thickest fight Blot out thy guilty purpose: know thy life Depends on this day's daring; and its deeds And wounds alone, won in the onset's brunt, Secures my silence. _Elliot_.--You wrong me, noble lady. _Lady Seton_.--Away! I'll hear thee not, nor let my ears List to the accents of a traitor's tongue. [_Exit_ ELLIOT. SCENE III.--_An Apartment in_ KING EDWARD'S _Tent._ _Enter_ EDWARD _and_ PERCY. _Edward_.--Well, my Lord Percy, thou hast made good speed. What say these haughty burghers to our clemency? _Percy_.--In truth, your Grace, they are right _haughty_ burghers. One wondrous civil gentleman proposed To write his answer on your servant's tongue-- Using his sword as clerks might do a quill-- Then thrust it on an arrow for a post-boy! _Edward_.--Such service he shall meet. What said their governor? _Percy_.--Marry! the old boy said I was no gentleman, And bade me read my answer in the eyes Of--Heaven defend me!--such a squalid crew! One looked like death run from his winding sheet; Another like an ague clothed in rags; A third had something of the human form, But every bone was cursing at its fellow. Now, though I vow that I could read my fate In every damsel's eyes that kissed a moonbeam, I've yet to learn the meaning of the words Wrote on the eyeballs of his vellum-spectres, But the old man is henpecked! _Edward_.--Prythee, Lord Percy, lay thy fool's tongue by, And tell thy meaning plainly. _Percy_.--Nay, pardon me, your majesty; I wot Your servant is the fool his father made him, And the most dutiful of all your subjects. _Edward_.--We know it, Percy. But what of his wife? _Percy_.--Why, if the men but possess half her spirit, You might besiege these walls till you have counted The grey hairs on the child that's born next June. _Edward_.--And was this all?