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. To think o' gien up the toun to sic a monster o'
iniquity, is entirely out o' the question--just impossible
a'thegither; and to think o' the twa dear brave bairns
sufferin', is just as impossible as to flee in the air. I tell
ye what, my lord--and it is my opinion it is a very fair
proposal (if naething but deaths will satisfy your king)--I, for
ane, will die in their stead--their faither will for anither;
and is there ane amang _you_, my townsmen, that winna do
the same, and let your names be handed down as heroes to your
bairns' bairns, and the last generation?