ts.

_Elw._ I will not be excus'd by Percy's crime;
So white my innocence, it does not ask
The shade of others' faults to set it off;
Nor shall he need to sully his fair fame
To throw a brighter lustre round my virtue.

_Dou._ Yet he can only die--but death for honour!
Ye powers of hell, who take malignant joy
In human bloodshed, give me some dire means,
Wild as my hate, and desperate as my wrongs!

_Per._ Enough of words. Thou know'st I hate thee, Douglas;
'Tis stedfast, fix'd, hereditary hate,
As thine for me; our fathers did bequeath it
As part of our unalienable birthright,
Which nought but death can end.--Come, end it here.

_Elw._ [_kneels_] Hold, Douglas, hold!--not for myself I kneel,
I do not plead for Percy, but for thee:
Arm not thy hand against thy future peace,
Spare thy brave breast the tortures of remorse,--
Stain not a life of unpolluted honour,
For, oh! as surely as thou strik'st at Percy,
Thou wilt for ever stab the fame of Douglas.

_Per._ Finish the bloody work.

_Dou._ Then take thy wish.

_Per._ Why dost thou start?

[_Percy bares his bosom. Douglas advances to stab him,
and discovers the scarf._

_Dou._ Her scarf upon his breast!
The blasting sight converts me into stone;
Withers my powers like cowardice or age,
Curdles the blood within my shiv'ring veins,
And palsies my bold arm.

_Per._ [_ironically to the Knights_] Hear you, his friends!
Bear witness to the glorious, great exploit,
Record it in the annals of his race,
That Douglas, the renown'd--the valiant Douglas,
Fenc'd round with guards, and safe in his own castle,
Surpris'd a knight unarm'd, and bravely slew him.

_Dou._ [_throwing away his dagger_]
'Tis true--I am the very stain of knighthood.
How is my glory dimm'd!

_Elw._ It blazes brighter!
Douglas was only brave--he now is generous!

_Per._ This action has restor'd thee to thy rank,
And makes thee worthy to contend with Percy.

_Dou._ Thy joy will be as short as 'tis insulting. [_to Elwina._
And thou, imperious boy, restrain thy boasting.
Thou hast sav'd my honour, not remov'd my hate,
For my soul loaths thee for the obligation.
Give him his sword.

_Per._ Now thou'rt a noble foe,
And in the field of honour I will meet thee,
As knight encount'ring knight.

_Elw._ Stay, Percy, stay,
Strike at the wretched cause of all, strike here,
Here sheath thy thirsty sword, but spare my husband.

_Dou._ Turn, madam, and address those vows to me,
To