Begone!" Black as a thunderbolt was the scowl that lowered over the brow of Buchan, as he sullenly unclasped his sword and gave it into the Lord Constable's hand; while with an action of careless recklessness the Earl of Fife followed his example, and they retired together, the one scowling defiance on all who crossed his path, the other jesting and laughing with each and all.
"I would not give my best falcon as pledge for the Countess of Buchan's well-doing, an she hath done this without her lord's connivance," whispered the Prince of Wales to one of his favorites, with many of whom he had been conversing, in a low voice, as if his father's wrathful accents were not particularly grateful to his ear.
"Nor would I pledge a hawk for her safety, if she fall into his grace's hands, whether with her lord's consent or no," replied the young nobleman, laughing.

"Your royal father is fearfully incensed." "Better destroy them root and branch at once," said the prince, who, like all weak minds, loved any extremity better than a protracted struggle.

"Exterminate with fire and sword; ravage the land till there be neither food for man nor beast; let neither noble nor serf remain, and then, perchance, we shall hear no more of Scotland.

On my faith, I am sick of the word." "Not so the king, my royal lord," returned his companion.

"See how eagerly he talks to my lords of Pembroke and Hereford.