-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!"

SCENE V.--_Apartment