Herald

Enough, great baron! Who estimatest an action by its success, Not by its moral worth. Whence blows the wind, The wavering wind of thy state politics? [Aside. My purport is to tell thee, England’s king Has sworn procrastination’s at an end, He hates thy evasive measures. In the name Of England I defy thee; as a token I throw my gauntlet thus upon the ground. [RAMSAY, unable to conceal his rage, kicks it away. Thank ye, sir knight! We will not starve you out, But beat you out by force. Should still your gates Remain shut up against our monarch’s mercy, Wo be within your walls.