By every holy thing, to speak no wrong, I do wrong, slaying. O, heinous sacrilege!-- Perhaps he is not dead. Comyn, look up; Speak; make some sign. Alas! that fatal blow Was aimed too surely at my cousin's heart! I used God's name too when I struck him dead! O horrid blasphemy! The sacrilege! [Going. Enter Kirkpatrick. Kirkpatrick. My Lord! Bruce. I fear I have slain Comyn. [Goes out. Kirkpatrick. Ha! You fear!--Then I'll make sure. He opes his eyes. Comyn. False--foolish--dying--guilty--perjured--lost! [Dies. Kirkpatrick [stabbing Comyn]. Something to staunch your muttering. No fear, now. Enter Sir Robert Comyn with his sword drawn. Robert Comyn. Stop villain! Hold your hand, rash murderer! Kirkpatrick. I only gave a grace-thrust to your nephew To end his agony. Put up your sword. He died a good death on the altar-steps. Robert Comyn. Kirkpatrick, you have aided in a deed, Unseconded, even in these fearful times. Kirkpatrick. Strong words and stiffly spoken. Does your sword Keep pace with your sharp tongue? Robert Comyn. We'll try. Kirkpatrick. Come on! [They fight, and Robert Comyn falls. Robert Comyn. Is this the day of judgment for our house? Kinsman, I was your follower on earth, And now I am your henchman through death's vale. [Dies. Enter Edward Bruce, Sir Christopher and Sir John Seton, and other gentlemen. Sir Christopher Seton. Two Comyns dead! Bruce only spoke of one. Kirkpatrick. I slew the other. He would have me fight. Sir John Seton. Alas! and could it be no other way? There was enough dissension in the realm Without a feud between these families, Highest in state and strongest in the field. 1st Gentleman. Comyn is dead, and Bruce has laid him low. The dead may slay the living. What say you? 2nd Gentleman. I say so too. The stroke that Comyn killed May yet recoil upon his murderer. Edward Bruce. Judge not, my friends. A murder has been done With outward signs of most unrighteous wrath. But think who did the deed--the noblest Scot, The knightliest chevalier, the kindliest friend, The prince of brothers. I, who know, say this. The very horror and the sacrilege That frame the crime with dreader circumstance, Cry out the doer was insane the while, And recommend him to your lenience. Therefore, take warning; and before you judge Let your bloods cool, lest you be guilty too Of foolish rashness in your condemnation. My brother left a message for you all: He asks you who are friends to visit him to-morrow at Lochmaben; where he means To lay the matter of his crime before you, And take your counsel on the consequence. 1st Gentleman. It's fair we should withhold our judgment, sirs, Until we be possessed of this event, The cause and manner of its happening. [Shouting within. Enter Nigel Bruce.