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MALCOLM.

'T is not the date, but potency of love

Which bears account: I say, approach no nearer.

CLAUDE.

Must I endure such passion? Frantic man!

Are we not both in grief smitten to the earth?
May we not both weep o'er this sacred spot,
Partners in wretchedness?

MALCOLM.

Away, away! I own no partnership;

He who hath spoke such word hath thereby proved
The poorness of his love. Approach no nearer.
I'll yield my heart's blood rather than resign
This my sad eminence in widow'd sorrow.

CLAUDE.

Dar'st thou to hinder me?

MALCOLM.

I dare and will.

(They grapple fiercely.)

Enter Crawford.

CRAWFORD (separating them).

For shame! for shame! to hold contention here!

Mutual affliction should make friends of foes.
Not foes of friends. The grave of one beloved