GREY

Lord Claud. Hambleton fourth son of the Duke, Robert Douglas brother to the Lord James Stuart! Archibald Dow glass Lord of Loughennell George Gram second son to the Earl of Menteich; James Coningham son to the Earl of Glencorne; all Hostages to the Queen of England till the Ar ticles be performed betwixt her, and the Federary Lords. Herald of Arms conduct these noble pledges from the Read Brays to Inskeith, see'em delivered to James Croft, and George Howard Knights from thence to be embarqd for England. What number speak your powers Our numbers then are eight thousand And still we look for more, sir Francis Leak, And gentle Sir, Jarvis; two spirits That in peace are lambs, in war two ravening Lyons. Thanks valiant Clifton; they can deserve no less Coming from thee? I see you emulate That we should take the glory to our selves, I'll give the first Alarm, yowl be one. What number sir Jarvis? 'Tis well done! Our bans are well divided, yours my Lord Keep the green Bulwark, mine the west Gate, You sir Jarvis the water-ports to Inskeith. Pelham from Pelhamus Mount plays at the Town How now what Trumpets this? Whats thy name? Her Princely offer we accept Rowge Cross Herald at Arms, command sir George Howard Sir James Crofts, and my son Arthur Gray To show her Grace my Sovereigns grievances I'th interim we'll sheath our burnishd blades Which had be died in scarlet long ere this. But for thy message. To prevent which each stand on his guard; your ears my Lord. Why return so soon. Were not our promise given to the Queen On which they built advantages, i'de make These French Rats run as Wolves from fire, Bid'em retire, and tell them thus from us Weel make them win their ground ere the stand on't. Nothing but circumvention in the French. Let the bowmen shout their flightest Arrows, As thick as hail, the Musketeers shall follow Alarm then; 'tis our first enterprise When cowards fallen the valiant spirits rise. How many of the French this day are fallen? Thanks unto heaven whose arm was our defence, What's he that beats the French arms displayed? Ther's forty Angels for thy good days service, And if thy merit retain and Ancients place. Can noble Arguile, and worthy Clifton After these, toils of blood, and massacre, Let's quench our raging motions in the Grape, And in the Frenchman's Vine drink his confusion? Proud France shall know that our Eliza's Name, Drives to confusion those that steal her Fame. Noble Clifton his ransom is thine own, Dispose of him as thou pleasest. Thanks noble Clifton, Thou still adest honour to thy Countries fame, Make scaling Ladders, for we straight intend, By heavens assistance to mount these walls, Courage brave spirits, every act finds end, Weel teach the Frenchman keep within his bounds Or send him home full of heroic wounds A notable exhortation. Harken the indictment. Would she could mew non guilty. It seems the elect Kiss weekly. Stay, stay, a pardon, a pardon! A pleasant Tragecomedy, the Cat being scaped, What Trumpets this? Either for peace or war. The Queen my Mistress now is armed for both, For Like a virtuous Princess, and a Mother Over us her loving Subject's, and her sons, She knowing a Kings security rests, In the true love, and welfare of her people, Raised this hostility for to guard her self, Not to offend, but to defend her own, Her Secretary Sicily now attends On the Like Embasy for Edinburgh, Whither your self shall safely be convoy'de. Will the Queen, Lay by her nicety, rough filled phrase, And not articulate too much with England? For by the power of war ever two suns rise Weel mount the walls of Leith, and sacrifice, Her guilded Towers, and her French insulters; In flames of fire; we vow to hazard lives, And honours in the enterprise. What day is this? This day shall in our English Calendar stand Either to our dishonour, or great fame's, When Chronicles in after ages tell The seventh of May we scaled the walls of Leith, We have begun, dreadless of death, and dangers, And Like to loyal Subject's held the rights Of our deer Mistress Queen Elizabeth. When Captain Randall gives the Alarm, Assault, assault, each man salute his friend, Take solemn farewell till this siege have end. Holds every man his charge as we ordered? I'll man this bulwark against proud Mortigue. Hark, the Alarum, each man unto his place. How goes the day, sir Jarvis? See! Arguile appears. The Town I see was too hight to hold thee, Elce thou'st have nesl'd in thy penthouse still. If what we articled be full performed Large stomachs, and empty salad dishes Are the Frenchman's viands; his banquetings, Cloys not the stomach, but gives satiety, A fresh appetite; that makes the body Active, and full of generous fires, Full dishes are Like potions unto them, I know not whither nicety or want; Lords of France you may depart at pleasure. Come my cemates in war, Our Soldiers instantly shall march for Berwick, The Duke of Norfolk, waits their arrival. Sir Francis Leak shall give them safe conduct, You, Arguile, Clifton, and my self With expedition are for Nottingham, To meet our peerless princess Elizabeth Who in her progress there will lay her Court. Arguile shall there receive the hostages Endue to the federary Lords of Scotland, We'll turn war's clangors into music's sweet, And Like new vested pares in wedlock meet Peace, and prosperity guard your sacred throne, And make your foes submissive Like the French; Leith is surrenderd, the French quite expulsed; The Scotch inhabiting their native bounds, Whom we have found most loyal to your Grace, And therefore they require their hostages Endue to the federary Scottish Lords. The Crag, and Chapels ours, and the French Like Hares are leaped out of fierce Greyhouds gripes. Doysells, and Mortigue, outran their Colours, And with all expedition took the Town.