_Port St Mary, and Front of the Walls of Berwick._
_The Scots Army being totally defeated at Halidon-hill, the English
renew the Siege of Berwick. While one party is engaged at the
Barriers, another, by means of a huge machine, escalades the Walls.
The Scots, thrown into confusion, retire into the Castle. A Female,
pursued by an Archer, runs across the stage; he discharges his
arrow, upon which she falls on her knees in the attitude of
supplication._
ARCHER.
Yield thee, my buxom maid! if thou art maid,
And art not mad; else, shall thy stubborn soul
Become the forfeit; which ’twere sad to lose,
Seeing thy sinful person’s better fitted
For me!—
[_The Female’s Cap and Scarf falling off, discovers
the bald head of a Dominican Friar._
FRIAR ADAM.
O misericordie! help, St Dominic! Would that I were hid in the Pigeon’s
Cove.
ARCHER.
Nay, down, old poltron, down! unto the death;
Since I must take your life for your deceit.
Ecclesiastics always come between
The soldier and his heaven!
FRIAR ADAM.
Help, Dominic!
It were not worth thy while to kill a friar,
Since thou may’st profit by his safe condition.
ARCHER.
How, fellow, say; I cannot brook delay,
My comrades fast advance to share the booty.
FRIAR ADAM.
Spare me, and I will purchase absolution
For your sad soul by penitence and prayer.
ARCHER.
Old poltron, damn your church’s absolution!
What ’vaileth that to me at such a time!
Since all the holy waves of Christendom,
With thy long hypocritical prayers to boot,
Won’t purchase my salvation. During peace
_You_ fatten on a country; may not _we_
In time of war pick up some prize-money,
Seeing that killing in our trade’s no murder!
Give me substantial stuff, or die, old rogue!
[_The Friar drops a Purse, and appears to swoon;
the Archer passes on. The Friar makes his
escape as a Storming Party comes up._