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Ah, brave De Grey! would they had ever done so! I had not now (Taking Sir Hubert's hand with emotion.) Forgive me, noble youth! Alas, alas! the father's tenderness Before the chieftain's policy gave way, And all this wreck hath been.

'Tis even so. That cursed peace; that coward's shadeless face Of smiles and promises, to all things yielding With weak, unmanly pliancy, so gain'd you Even you, the wise Argyll!—it made me mad! Who hath no point that he maintains against you, No firmness hath to hold him of your side: Who cannot sturdily against me stand, And say, "Encroach no farther," friend of mine Shall never be.

Nay, Lorne, forbear!—forbear! Thine own impetuous wilfulness did make The other's pliant mind more specious seem; And thou thyself did'st to that luckless union,