 | John Baliol |  |
SCENE II.
—Within the Gates of Berwick.King Edward, De Bek, and Soldiers.
KING EDWARD.
Soldiers, 'tis gain'd; now, off with your disguises;
Away with your deceitful gabardines;
Down with your forged banners to the dust.
Be now yourselves and enemies; put off
All feignedness of face, and looks of lies,
And other foe-outwitting mummery;
But muster up into the mounting blood
Genuine wrath, honest hostility,
As edged and cutting as the steel it wields;
Convert your faces into flints; exclude
Each drop of milky mercy from your hearts,
That gentleness may be this day in heaven,
And cruelty hold revel upon earth.
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And smite, and spare not; let the self-same stab
That pins the infant, hugging at the breast,
Transfix the mother mortally; fair youth
Be saved not by her ringlets; and decrepit
Old age provoke the deadlier fell dispatch,
From his hoar pate and venerable ripeness
For a long-cheated grave; degree, age, sex,
Be huddled up in one huge slaughter-heap;
Let them all perish, for they all are Scottish;
That blasted name attaints them to the death:
Now then—branch forth, and parcel out the work;
Surrey, take thou the right; De Bek, the left;
Be mine the middle streets:—Let us all meet
Beside the garrison; Be that the crown
And glorious termination: Draw, my friends!—
On, on!
[Exeunt.
First Voice within.
Murder—oh mercy!
Second Voice within.
Ah, alas for him
That died to-day, sweet mercy, mercy, lord!
EDWARD'S
voice within.
Hew, hew them down, and spare not!
Confused voices.
Mercy, mercy!
| John Baliol | |