SCENE IV.—The Ramparts.

Scots driven through the gates in confusion.

Sir Alex.—Woe to thee, Elliot! this defeat is thine. Where was the caution ye but preached this morn, That ye should madly break our little band, And rush on certain ruin? Fie on thee, man! That such an old head is so young a soldier! Here, guard this breach, defend it to the last; Henry shall be thy comrade. On, my friends! They cross the river, and the northern gate Will be their next attack.

Elliot [aside].—"Woe to thee, Elliot! this defeat is thine!" So says our Governor! 'Tis true!—'twas mine! Though I have failed me in my firm, fixed purpose, Once more he's thrown revenge within my grasp; And I will clutch it—clutch it firmly, too; I guard the breach! and with his son to assist me! The Fates grow kind! The breach! he said the breach! And gave his son up to the power of Edward!

Henry.—Why stand ye musing there? Here lies your duty!

Elliot [aside].—'Tis true! 'tis true! my duty DOES lie there!

Henry.—Follow me, Elliot. See—they scale the walls! A moment lost, and they have gained the battlement.

Shouting.—PERCY and Followers leap upon the battlement.

Percy.—On! followers, on!—for Edward and for England!

Henry.—Have at thee, Percy, and thy followers, too! For Freedom and for Scotland! On, Elliot! on! Wipe out the morning's shame.

Elliot [aside].—Have at thee, boy, for insult and revenge!

[ELLIOT strikes HENRY'S sword from his hand.

Henry.—Shame on thee, traitor! are we thus betrayed?

[Percy's Followers make HENRY prisoner.

Elliot.—Thank Heaven! thank Heaven!—one then is in their grasp! A truce, Lord Percy. See thy prisoner safe, Ere his mad father sound a rescue—off! Thou wouldst not draw thy sword upon a friend?

[SIR ALEXANDER, RICHARD, PROVOST RAMSAY, and others, enter hurriedly.

Sir Alex.—Thanks, Elliot! thanks! You have done nobly!—thanks! Where is your comrade?—speak—where is my son?

Elliot.—Would he had been less valiant—less brave!

Sir Alex.—What! is he dead, my good, my gallant boy? Where is his body? show me—where? oh, where?

Richard.—Where is my brother? tell me how he fell?

Elliot.—Could I with my best blood have saved the youth, Ye are all witnesses that I would have done it.

Provost Ramsay.—Indeed, Mr. Elliot, if ye refer to me, I'm witness to naething o' the kind; for it is my solemn opinion, a' the execution your sword did was as feckless as a winnle-strae.

Sir Alex.—Where is my poor boy's body?

Elliot.—I did not say he died.

Richard.—Not dead!

Sir Alex.—Not say he died?

Elliot.—See yonder group now hurrying to the camp, And shouting as they run. He is their prisoner! [Aside] Feed ye, friends, on that.

Sir Alex.—Cold-blooded man! them never wert a father. The tyrant is! he knows a father's heart; And he will play the butcher's part with mine! Each day inflicting on me many deaths, Knowing right well I am his twofold prisoner; For on the son's head he'll repay, with interest, The wrongs the father did him! "He is their prisoner," saidst thou?" Is their prisoner!" Thou hast no sons!—none!—I forgive thee, Elliot!

Elliot.—Deeply I crave your pardon, noble sir; Pity for you, and love for Scotland, made me That I was loath to speak the unwelcome tidings; Fearful that to attempt his rescue now, Had so cut off our few remaining troops, As seal immediate ruin.

Provost Ramsay [aside].—Preserve us a'! hear that. Weel, to be sure, it's a true saying, "Satan never lets his saunts be at a loss for an answer!"