Part 2 / Act 1 — SCENE III.

A Room in the Castle.

Enter Lord Dunbar.

DUNBAR.

I do not like the feature of this war,

That in the shadow of my mind appears

Too like the sun that rose on fatal Duplin,

A day to be deplored in Scottish annals.

This puppet Baliol is too well supported

By that baronial faction, that do serve

The side that suits their purpose. Honesty,

Alas! has been too long estranged from Scotland.

Am I not blamed for serving England too?

Why not?—The dazzling gewgaw of a crown

Seem’d once within my grasp; my claim as good

As Bruce and Cumyn; ay, and many more.

Was not my father’s grandam sister-in-law

To Henry Fourth of England? was not Bruce

118My father’s cousin? Now for once I strive

To emulate the soul of glorious Randolph,

And serve my country with a duteous love:

Edward is in my debt! Did he not hire

The monk, that, like another Saxon Coppa,

Administer’d medicine in the shape of drugs

To the regent, Thomas Randolph, my wife’s brother,

Who yielded his dear life through this assassin,

When Scotland needed most his gracious aid;

I shall requite the king; but, hark! who comes?

Enter Keith and Seton.

Sir knights, so soon returned?

SETON.

Even so, my lord.

DUNBAR.

How speeds the mission?

SETON.

I’ve succeeded well,

But rather for the mission than myself;

Since a short truce is bought at a high price

For my soul’s comfort. England, as surety,

Demands eight hostages, ’mongst which my son

Is honour’d with a sorry precedence

In the devoted list. Three short, short days,

The utmost limits of this puny truce.

Heaven waft Sir William on the eagle’s wing,

119And bring the Regent here with early succour;

For many a parent’s heart will throb till then.

DUNBAR.

I feel for thee, sir knight; but thy devotion

For this lost land by Heaven will be rewarded.

The deadly blast of war will soon blow o’er,

Then shall our warriors fill the goblet high

In honour of the chiefs who saved their country;

And our fair daughters, when to grandames grown,

Shall tell their children of their great grandsires

Who fought and fell at Berwick.

KEITH.

Be comforted, dear friend! what man can do

To bring relief in this sad strait shall I.

I’ll spur my steed, even to its utmost strength,

Until its coal-black sides are white with foam.

I only crave your pious dame’s best prayers

To aid me in my absence—time is short,

But summer days are long, and willing hearts

Travel like Mercury: my good lords, adieu!

[Exit Keith.

DUNBAR.

There goes as brave a knight as ever wore

A pair of gilded spurs, or e’er partook

The peacock’s royal feast.

120SETON.

Yes! and I promise him two spurs of gold

Should he return in time to save the city

And those within its walls.

DUNBAR.

He reins a steed

Fresh from the desert, footed by the wind;

So, Seton, be of cheer.

SETON.

Time wears apace.—

I go to muster the young hostages,

For England’s monarch will not brook delay. [Exeunt.