I desire you to lay aside prejudice, and consider me as a Christian, in relation to the justice of the quarrel; as a subject, in relation to my royal master's command; and as your neighbour, in relation to the many of your lives I have preserved in battle: and be not too rash; but let me be judged by the laws of God, the laws of nature and nations, and the laws of this land. If otherwise, I do here appeal from you to the righteous Judge of the world, who one day must be your judge and mine, and who always gives out righteous judgments." The Chancellor's reply was less dignified. Among the epithets hurled at the prisoner were _infamous_, _perjured_, _treacherous_; he was the most cruel and inhuman butcher that the world had ever seen; he had destroyed the father by his boundless pride and ambition, and would, had he been suffered, have destroyed the son. Montrose was then commanded to kneel, while his sentence was read by Warriston. He was to be hanged on a gibbet at the cross of Edinburgh, with a copy of his Memoirs by Wishart and a copy of his last declaration tied by a rope about his neck; after hanging for the space of three hours, his head, hands, and legs were to be cut off, and distributed as follows: his head was to be fixed on an iron spike on a pinnacle of the Tolbooth; one hand was to be set over the gate of Stirling, the other over the gate of Perth; one leg over the gate of Aberdeen, the other over the gate of Glasgow. If, at his death, he was penitent and released from excommunication, then the trunk of his body was to be decently buried in the churchyard of the Grey Friars; if otherwise, it was to be laid by the hangman's men under the common gallows on the Borough Moor. While this brutal sentence was read Montrose showed no sign of discomposure. Only at the end he sighed twice, and raising his head looked round the ring of relentless faces; but he spoke no word. The Doomster then, according to law, repeated the sentence, and Montrose was removed to the Tolbooth. Scarcely had he re-entered his prison, when the ministers again attacked him. But he would argue with them no more. "I pray you, gentlemen," he said, "let me die in peace." One of his gaolers, moved to some momentary pity, asked these impertinent busybodies if nothing would satisfy them but tormenting the last hours of an unfortunate man. It was the only way, they answered, to humble his proud spirit and bring him to God.