Scene III In Westmoreland
Enter Musgrove and Cuddy.
Cud. Now, gentle father, list unto thy son,
And for my mother’s love,
That erst was blithe and bonny in thine eye,
Grant one petition that I shall demand.
Mus. What is that, my Cuddy?
Cud. Father, you know the ancient enmity of late
Between the Musgroves and the wily Scots,
Whereof they have oath
Not to leave one alive that strides a lance.
O father, you are old, and, waning, age unto the grave:
Old William Musgrove, which whilom was thought
The bravest horseman in all Westmoreland,
Is weak, and forc’d to stay his arm upon a staff,
That erst could wield a lance.
Then, gentle father, resign the hold to me;
Give arms to youth, and honour unto age.
Mus. Avaunt, false-hearted boy! my joints do quake
Even with anguish of thy very words.
Hath William Musgrove seen an hundred years?
Have I been fear’d and dreaded of the Scots,
That, when they heard my name in any road,301
They fled away, and posted thence amain,
And shall I die with shame now in mine age?
No, Cuddy, no: thus resolve I,
Here have I liv’d, and here will Musgrove die.
[Exeunt.