and array ourselves in some better order

The band had now reached the edge of the water, and one of the party advancing displayed Lord Lindesay’s pennon, waving it repeatedly to and fro, while that Baron himself blew a clamorous blast on his bugle. A banner was presently displayed from the roof of the castle in reply to these signals, and one or two figures were seen busied as if unmooring a boat which lay close to the islet. “It will be some time ere they can reach us with the boat,” said the companion of Lord Lindesay; “should we not do well to proceed to the town, and array ourselves in some better order, ere we appear before ——” “You may do as you list, Sir Robert,” replied Lindesay, “I have neither time nor temper to waste on such vanities. She has cost me many a hard ride, and must not now take offence at the threadbare cloak and soiled doublet that I am arrayed in. It is the livery to which she has brought all Scotland.” “Do not speak so harshly,” said Sir Robert; “if she hath done wrong, she hath dearly abied it; and in losing all real power, one would not deprive her of the little external homage due at once to a lady and a princess.” “I say to you once more, Sir Robert Melville,” replied Lindesay, “do as you will — for me, I am now too old to dink myself as a gallant to grace the bower of dames.” “The bower of dames, my lord!” said Melville, looking at the rude old tower —“is it yon dark and grated castle, the prison of a captive Queen, to which you give so gay a name?” “Name it as you list,” replied Lindesay; “had the Regent desired to send an envoy capable to speak to a captive Queen, there are many gallants in his court who would have courted the occasion to make speeches out of Amadis of Gaul, or the Mirror of Knighthood.