[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?