_The Council Chamber in Berwick Castle._

[_Flourish of drums and trumpets, and shouts heard without._

_Enter_ LORD DUNBAR, SIR WILLIAM KEITH, _and_ SIR ALEXANDER SETON, _with attendants._

SETON.

The assault continues, and the gallant Ramsay Fills up each deadly gap with volunteers, Mocking all masonry.

KEITH.

Ne’er doth battle shew A fiercer front, than when her gallant yeomen Marshal in proud array to meet th’ invader, And die or conquer for their church and homes, Their wives, their children, and their loved firesides.

DUNBAR.

Well said! and, with the purest hospitality To give the audacious foe an earthly bed Cover’d with crimson drapery. What now, sir?

_Enter_ LIEUTENANT.

LIEUTENANT.

My lords, the Mayor doth crave an audience.

DUNBAR.

Usher him in. He is an upright man, A good, devout, and worthy citizen: A person fitted for important matters; But rather kind of heart for scenes like these.

_Enter the_ MAYOR OF BERWICK, _with_ AMBROSE CARMICHAEL, _his body servant, [whom the Officer in waiting interrupts,] accompanied also by four Sergeants-at-Mace._

OFFICER.

Back, fellow! How dare you intrude here?

AMBROSE.

Ambrose Carmichael, town-musician, town-crier, and grave-digger, at your service, sir; attendant on his honour, the Mayor. Respect the bear’s livery, and be civil. [_The_ MAYOR _motions_ AMBROSE _to stand back._

MAYOR.

My lords, I almost dread to make my suit, Because, before ’tis made, I read too well Refusal in your looks.

DUNBAR.

Then, pray, good sir, Let the said suit be made to fit the wearer.

MAYOR.

The city is in flames: The trembling burghers, Upon their knees, intreat me to implore That ye this fated city will surrender Before their families fall beneath the butchery Of the rude soldiers; and their little ones Perish of hunger, or of worse disease.

DUNBAR.

My precious gormandizers, thus you come; Oh! cannot your Pie-powder Court supply ye.— (I’ve heard that ye will fatten on a bell-rope,) [_Aside._ Has corporation dinners eat all up, That thus you beard us in the face of war With dread starvation, ere the fight’s begun? [_The_ MAYOR, _who is a tall slender-looking man, standing erect._

MAYOR.

My lord, I surely do not look like that! [AMBROSE _advancing, who is a plump little man_.

AMBROSE.

Nor I, my noble lord, for my fatness comes from my mother, rest her soul. My red complexion and dumpling body to boot, comes from drinking nourishing waters, as the parish clerk was wont to say, rather than by eating gross meat from the shambles.

DUNBAR.

I suspect, fellow, thou hast not lived upon the Spittal Spaw;[4] but be silent. Fools should not come here.

AMBROSE.

Fools will venture, my lord, where wise men dare not enter, my lord! [_Retires._ [_To the_ OFFICER.] Why do you devour me with your greedy eyes: didst thou ne’er see an honest man before?

MAYOR.

May’t please your lordship, ’tis no time for jesting; O save the city ere it be too late!— Not for myself I plead, but hapless wretches, That run like bedlamites across the streets, Shrieking for help; yet scarce know what they seek! As they behold their all devour’d by fire Lit by the glare of Ruin. For myself, Could I shake off the manacles of age That rivet every sinew, ye should see Me first to mount the walls—the last to leave them. Heard ye that shout without? I do beseech you, With skill united, meditate our safety, While I retire to keep the mob in order, Lest, like the flames, they do destroy themselves. Eternal Heav’n, why didst thou poise the world, To hang it on such human wretchedness!

DUNBAR.

Retire, good man! and rein the brawling burghers, While we delib’rate here, in secret council, What best may suit the purpose of events!— [_Exit_ MAYOR.

AMBROSE (_aside_.)

What a ravenous, rascally thing is war!—It pays no respect to persons, gentle or semple, lord or clown. In battle, as in the grave, we are all upon an equal footing at a short notice: so run, Ambrose, and keep at the tail of your master; as for poor Maggy, she must shift for herself, as the forester did when the bears devoured his wife and three sons, and he was left alone to cry out a _Bare Week_.[5]

[_Exit_ AMBROSE.

DUNBAR.

To council now, my honoured governors! I move that we do seek a gentle truce, Wer’t but to earth our dead; and for this purport Seton goes envoy to the English camp, To ask delay, while we await the issue: Should the proud monarch grant this small request, Keith goes to Bamburgh, to consult the Regent What may be done.

SETON.

And on what terms shall I crave a truce, Since haughty Edward will not grant delay, Unless ’tis bought with obvious advantage?

DUNBAR.

That town and castle shall be render’d up, Unless within six days we meet with succour; But should two hundred men at arms succeed, To cut a passage through the English host, We stand relieved, and meet them man for man.

KEITH.

O sage in council as renown’d in war! We shall abide, my lord, by your decision; Plans wisely laid, must in maturity Bear goodly fruit; meanwhile, remember, Seton, To seek safe-conduct to Northumberland. [_Exit_ KEITH.

SETON.

Farewell, my lord, while I proceed to Tweedmouth Upon this desp’rate mission. Heaven forfend That it may meet the success its importance, Big with the fate of Scotland, doth deserve; God and St Andrew be our country’s help! [_Exeunt severally._