You'd to the castle, take the keys by force,
And ope the gates to let your children live.
Here comes your provost--now appeal to him.

_Enter_ PROVOST RAMSAY.--_The people demand bread_.

_Provost Ramsay_.--Gie you food!--your bairns dee wi'
hunger!--and ye maun hae bread! It is easy saying, Gie ye! but
where am I to get it? Do you think there's naebody finds the
grund o' their stamachs but yersels? I'm sure I hae been blind
fastin' these four-and-twenty hours! But wad ye no suffer this,
and ten times mair for liberty, and for the glory and honour of
auld Scotland?

_Elliot [to the people]_.--He, too, can cant of
_liberty_ and _honour_!

_Provost Ramsay_.--I say, Mr. Hypocrite! it is my fixed and
solemn opinion that ye are at the bottom o' this murmuring. I
ken ye're never at a loss for an answer; and there is anither
wee bit affair I wad just thank ye to redd up. Do ye mind what a
fine story ye made in this very market-place the ither week,
about getting ower the bed--and your wife's bosom being torn
bare--and the blood gushing to your feet, and a' the rest o't?
Do ye mind o' that, sir? Do ye mind o' that? I daresay,
townsmen, ye've no forgot it? Now, sir, it's no aboon ten
minutes sine, that the poor creature--wha, according to your
account, was dead and buried--got loose frae her confinement,
and cam fleeing to me for protection, as a man and a magistrate,
to save her frae the cruelty o' you, you scoundrel. Now, what