_The English Camp at Tweedmouth._

KING EDWARD _seated under a Royal Canopy, surrounded by_ BALIOL, LORDS MONTAGUE, D’ARCY, PERCY, JOHN OF HAINAULT, _and other Generals. Guards in the back-ground._

[_Flourish of Trumpets._

KING EDWARD.

See that the caitiff be secured, and led To instant execution!

OFFICER.

It shall be done, my liege. [_Exit_ OFFICER.

KING EDWARD.

These damned Scots, Nursed in the school of Douglas, practise well The arts of stratagem; but in the field Are arrant cowards, else they would not shun My chastisement. Thanks to my trusty doublet Well temper’d, else that minion’s thirsty dagger Had done its office. It is shameful thus To tarry, lords, while royal blood is spilt On such occasion.

D’ARCY.

My most gracious liege, We wait your orders to chastise the foe. [_They all grasp their swords._

KING EDWARD.

’Tis like the game they play’d at Stanhope Park, When I was rescued by my gallant chaplain; Those priests fight well; remember the brave Chapter Of Mitton, led on by th’ Archbishop of York Against the mob, who perish’d, every soul, And saved the queen! these, these were noble men, To teach my warriors valour!

D’ARCY (_aside._)

I, by Saint Patrick, that was well-fed mutton For the poor hungry Scots.

KING EDWARD.

I burn to whet my faulchion on these Scots, That fly like game pursued, and ever mock Our generalship. We march,—they fly—retreat— Till night returns, and burning villages Tell where the base outlaws have fix’d their camp; Next morn beholds the ravaged plains deserted, Smoking with refuse of luxurious spoils Stolen from our wealthy yeomen; even as those Swart vagabonds that banquet on the heath, Beneath the blasted tree; and fly at dawn, Lest the fair day reveal their hellish deeds.

BALIOL.

They dread to meet your highness in the field; But, like the assassin, strike you in your tent When asking charity.

_Enter_ SIR RICHARD BENHALE.

KING EDWARD.

Is the caitiff hung

BENHALE.

Yes, gracious liege! and died a horrid death; For, when upon the scaffold, from his breast He drew a roll of flax, which, waved in air, Sent up a rising smoke; he thrust it down His throat,—it did the executioner’s office; For when his entrails were taken out, they boil’d As might become a traitor’s.

KING EDWARD.

Precious rogue! Useful in death: He must have been a spy, And this a signal given.

BENHALE.

Even so, my liege! For now, seen high, upon the walls of Berwick, The white flag’s hoisted.

KING EDWARD.

’Tis all a trick! but I am ripe for vengeance. Hell rot their flags! my purpose now is vengeance! Lead forth the hostages unto the ramparts, And hang them in the very teeth of Berwick! Let Seton’s son be strung above the rest To rot like carrion in his mother’s face. Let it be done in silence, that their cries, Wafted across the Tweed, may ring i’ their ears Through every future age the wrath of England! Meanwhile, my warriors, Percy, John of Hainault, And gallant D’Arcy, be upon the watch.

PERCY.

My sword will be an earnest, for the lands I hold of Scotland; and that sword will punish Those chiefs who sought to cheat me of my own. [_Exit_ PERCY.

JOHN OF HAINAULT.

My heavy horse shall crush their spears to atoms! [_Exit_ HAINAULT.

D’ARCY.

By good St Patrick, if they escape me now I ne’er shall see your highness face again; For I will choke with grief; then drown myself In the bottom of Loch Neagh! [_Exit_ D’ARCY.

KING EDWARD.

And, ye young galliards! signalize yourselves. Who first discovers where the coward Scots Have fix’d their camp, shall from our royal bounty Receive a pension of one hundred pounds.— Montague sack the town; nor sex, nor age, Nor suckling babe spare not, until the Tweed, Swollen high with blood, o’erflows its fertile banks; Hence shall the haughty burghers learn obedience, Hear but the name of Edward and submit! [_Exeunt._