But none of his enemies, not even those who had conspired against his life, not even those who had attempted by perjury to load him with the guilt of treason and assassination, had ever been regarded by him with such animosity as he now felt for Burnet.

His Majesty railed daily at the Doctor in unkingly language, and meditated plans of unlawful revenge.

Even blood would not slake that frantic hatred.

The insolent divine must be tortured before he was permitted to die.

Fortunately he was by birth a Scot; and in Scotland, before he was gibbeted in the Grassmarket, his legs might be dislocated in the boot.