--Ha! my Matilda!
Thou here! Dry up thy tears, my love! dry up thy tears!
I cannot sacrifice both sons and mother!
Alas, my country! I must sell thee dearly!
My faith--mine honour too!--take--take them, Percy!
I am a father, and my sons shall live!--
Shall _live_! and I shall _die_! [_Unsheathing his sword_.
_Lady Seton_.--Hold! hold, my husband--save thy life and honour!
Thou art a father--am not I a mother?
Knowest thou the measure of a mother's love?
Think ye she yearns not for her own heart's blood?
Yet I will _live_! and thou shalt live, my husband!
We will not rob this Edward of his shame;
Write--I will dictate as my sons had done it--
I know their nature, for 'twas I who gave it.
_Sir Alex_.--Thou wait'st an answer, Percy--I will give it.
_[Sits down to write_.
No; I cannot, Matilda.
_Lady Seton_.--Write thus:
"Edward may break his faith, but Seton cannot!
Edward may earn disgrace, but Seton honour!
His sons are in your power! Do! do as ye list!"
_[He starts up in agitation_.
_Sir Alex_.--No, no! it cannot be--say not my sons!
Lord Percy, let your tyrant take my life!
Torture me inchmeal!--to the last I'll smile,
And bless him for his mercy!--but spare, oh spare my children!
_Provost Ramsay_.--Really, Sir Alexander, I dinna ken hoo
to advise you.
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