LOCHTARISH.
And truly swear, if we are call'd upon,
We have not shed her blood.
BENLORA.
If ye her life will take, in open day
Let her a public sacrifice be made.
Let the loud trumpet far and near proclaim
Our bloody feast, and at the rousing sound,
Let every clans-man of the hated name
His vengeful weapon clench.
I like it not, Lochtarish. What we do,
Let it be boldly done,—Why should we slay her?
Let her in shame be from the castle sent;
Which to her haughty sire will do, I ween,
Far more despite than taking of her life.—
A feeble woman's life!—I like it not.
(Turning on his heel angrily, and striding to the bottom of the Stage.)
LOCHTARISH, (aside to Glenfadden.)
The fiery fool! how madly wild he is!
(Glenfadden goes to the bottom of the stage, and
