A TRAGEDY
65
Will work him soon to be an oath-bound wretch
To this their fell design.—Are all things ready?
SECOND.
FIRST.
SECOND.
Near to the castle, with our trusty mates,
Our boat must be in waiting to receive her.
FIRST.
That slow and dismal death! To be at once
Plunged in the closing deep many have suffered,
But to sit waiting on a lonely rock
For the approaching tide to throttle her—
But that she is a Campbell, I could weep.
SECOND.
With our old enemy, and in the field
Our good claymores reek with their hated blood:
Think upon this, and change thy tears to joy.
(Exeunt.)