_Percy_.--Thou hast a noble heart, old honest Scotsman; but
I cannot accept your generous offer.

_Lady Seton_.--Mark this, my husband!--that we may still be parents--
That we might have two sons to _live and scorn us_--
Sell country--honour--all--and live disgraced:
Think ye MY SONS would call a _traitor_ father?--
They drew their life from _me_--from _me_ they drew it;
And think ye I would call a _traitor husband?_--
What! would ye have them live, that every slave,
In banquet or in battle, might exclaim,
"For you, ye hinds, your father sold his country?"
Or, would you have them live, that no man's daughter
Would stoop so low as call your sons her husband?
Would you behold them hooted, hissed at,
Oft, as they crossed the street, by every urchin?
Would ye your sons--your _noble_ sons--met this,
Eather than die for Scotland? If ye do love them,
Love them as a _man_!

_Sir Alex_.--'Tis done! my country, thou hast made me bankrupt!
And I am childless! _[Exeunt_


SCENE VIII.--_The river, and boat. Time midnight. Enter one
habited as a friar_.


_Friar_.---'Tis now thick midnight. All round me sleep,