Classic Poem

[SCENE XIV.]

Enter B ALIOL with his train .

Baliol. Princes of Scotland and my loving friends,
Whose necks are overwearied with the yoke
And servile bondage of these Englishmen,
Lift up your horns, and with your brazen hoofs
Spurn at the honour of your enemies.
'Tis not ambitious thoughts of private rule
Have forced your king to take on him these arms;
'Tis country's cause; it is the common good
Of us and of our brave posterity.
To arms, to arms!
Versses by this hath told the king our minds,
And he hath braved proud England to the proof:
We will remunerate his resolution
With gold, with glory, and with kingly gifts.
First Lord. By sweet Saint Jerome, Versses will not spare
To tell his message to the English king,
And beard the jolly Longshanks to his face,
Were he the greatest monarch in the world.
And here he comes: his halter makes him haste.

Enter V ERSSES .

Versses. Long live my lord, the rightful king of Scots!
Baliol. Welcome, Versses! what news from England?
Like to the messenger of Scotland's king?
Versses. Versses, my lord, in terms like to himself,
Like to the messenger of Scottish king,
Defied the peers of England and their swords,
That all his barons trembles at my threats,
And Longshanks' self, as daunted and amazed,
Gazed on my face, not witting what to say;
Till rousing up he shaked his threatening hair:
" Versses, " quoth he, " take thou King Edward's chain,
Upon condition thou a message do
To Baliol, false perjured Baliol; "
For in these terms he bade me greet your grace,
And give this halter to your excellence.
I took the chain, and give your grace the rope.
Baliol. You took the chain, and give my grace the rope! —
Lay hold on him. — Why, miscreate recreant,
And darest thou bring a halter to thy king?
But I will quite thy pain, and in that chain,
Upon a silver gallows shalt thou hang,
That honour'd with a golden rope of England,
And a silver gibbet of Scotland, thou mayst
Hang in the air for fowls to feed upon,
And men to wonder at. — Away with him!
Away!