Should our _friend_ wear his head another week,
His neck, I'll swear, is not as other men's are.
_Edward_.--How fares it with the son, our silent prisoner?
_Percy_.--Poor soul, he leans his head against the wall,
And stands with his arms thus--across his breast--
Pale as a gravestone, gnashing at his teeth,
And looking on his guards just as his mother would!
_Edward_.--'Tis now the hour that Elliot has proposed
To stir the townsmen up to mutiny.
Take our conditions, and _whatever_ you please;
Get but the son as hostage!--get but that!
And both shall die a thief's death if he yield not;
He is a father, Percy--he's a father!
The town is ours, and at an easy purchase. _[Exit_
_Percy_.--And she's a mother, Edward! she's a mother!
Ay! and a mother; I will pledge my earldom,
And be but plain Hal Percy all my life,
If she despise not gallows, death, and children,
And earn for thee a crown of shame, my master!
In sooth, I am ashamed to draw my sword,
Lest I should see my face in its bright blade;
For sure my mother would not know her son,
As he goes blushing on his hangman's errand.
SCENE VI.--_A Street_--_the Market-place.
Enter_ ELLIOT _and_ Populace.
_Elliot_--You heard, my townsmen, how our gracious governor
Did talk to us of honour--! you all heard him!
Can any of you tell us what is _honour?
He_ drinks his wine, _he_ feeds on beeves and capons;
_His_ table groans beneath a load of meats;
_His_ hounds, _his_ hawks, are fed like Christian men!
_He_ sleeps in a downy couch, o'erhung with purple;
And these, all these are _honourable_ doings!
He talks of _liberty_!
Is it, then, _liberty_ to be cooped up
Within these prison walls, to starve from want,
That we may have the liberty--mark it, my friends!--
The wondrous _liberty_ to call him _Governor_?
Had ye the hearts or hands your fathers had,
You'd to the castle, take the keys by force,
And ope the gates to let your children live.
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