before onything really is gaun to happen to a body, or to ony o'
their friends, like, there is a kind o' something comes ower
ane--a sort o' sough about the heart there--an' ye dinna ken
what for.

_Sir Alex_.--Have ye beheld how they are raising bastions,
Flanking fresh cannon, too, in front the town,
Gaining new reinforcements to their camp,
And watching all our outgoings? Do you think
This looks as Edward meant to keep his faith?
I am betrayed, my friends--I am betrayed.
Fear marcheth quickly to a father's breast--
My sons are lost! are lost!

_Provost Ramsay_.--It's true that King Edward's
preparations, and his getting sic fearfu' additions to his army,
doesna look weel. But what is a king but his word mair than a
man?

_Enter_ Servant.

_Servant_.--Lord Percy craves an audience with your honour.

_Sir Alex_.--Conduct him hither. 'Tis as I boded!

[_Exit_ Servant--_enter_ PERCY.

You look grave, my lord.

_Percy_.--Faith, if I can look grave, to-day I should: