Part 2 / Act 1 — SCENE II.

Inside of a Hovel.

AMBROSE (solus)

Thank Heaven! there’s peace again since the blessed parley was sounded. Thrice blessed be the manes of the man who invented parleys; for they speak pleasantly to the ear of the soldier that has been long deafened with the din of war. They are like a sweet word from Maggy after a violent scolding. Why do you cry, Mag?

Enter Maggy.

MAGGY.

Woes me! they’re leading the poor lads down the Western lane like sheep to the slaughter, while their fathers are sobbing and their mothers are crying.

116 AMBROSE.

What poor lads, Maggy?

MAGGY.

The young hostages. Devil take that English tyke, and make a haggis of his bladder! I wonder if he has bairns of his own—and how he would like to see them led forth like two-month-old lambs. No doubt every body thinks their own crow the fairest!

AMBROSE.

Hush, Maggy, and shut your mouth, and talk lowly. There’s no doubt kings and emperors come into the world and go out of it like other folk, but they don’t care so much for their bairns as we do: seeing they get others to keep them, and teach them, and so forth. But it does not become either you or I to speak evil of authorities. Let us mind our own concerns. Do you hear that noise, honey?

MAGGY.

Let us run, Ambrose, and hide ourselves in the peat cellar, where we may pray in safety!

AMBROSE.

Get you there, while I seek the tail of my master; since, doubtless, the greatest savages in Christendom will respect the bear’s livery, and do no harm to the Mayor of Berwick. [Exit Ambrose.

117 MAGGY.

Then I’ll e’en go with you; since it is not meet that man and wife should be separated. [Exit.