_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