--They shall have it--death in its fullest meaning.
Haste, ply our cannon on the opening breach.
Forth!--they attack the camp! Now, drive them back,
Break through their gate and guards,
Till all be ours! [_Exeunt_
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.
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