RICHARD.
Eaten! On such a day as this!
RIGBY.
Nonsense, lad. You must keep up your strength. (Crosses to serving-table where bowl stands.) Here! If you will not eat, at least you can drink a cup of steaming lemon punch. No lads who come to my tavern get anything stronger—unless, mayhap, a cup of apple juice. Youth is its own best wine. Cider for you. Burgundy for your betters, eh, lad? (Gives Richard a cup and takes a cup himself.) Here's to taxless tea! (Drinks.)
RICHARD
(joining him in the toast).
And the confounding of the British! And now, since there are no red-coats about, I may tell you that the Old South Church is not the only place that's to hold a meeting. There's going to be one here.
RIGBY
(surprised).
Here?
RICHARD.
In less than half an hour the lads will meet me. We call ourselves "The Younger Sons of Freedom."