[Smith changes André's coat.]
Success is virtue; and we mean to win.
[Exit André _and _Smith.]
[Aside.] If we should fail, good youth, for history's eye,
They'd write us up,—the traitor and the spy.
Would God some power to telescope the hours
Were lent me now! With André in New York
I am revenged, rich, powerful, respected, everything
My enemies begrudge. It cannot fail.
O for a battle now to dry this sweat
Of simple waiting! Sure, he cannot miss!
My passes run the river up and down;
And every day some messenger of mine
Reaches New York; then why not he?
If they should take him? But they will not take him.
All these long months of waiting,—
And not a soul to speak to; I could roar,—
Sound it against the mountains,—that these peaks
Should bandy my intentions back and forth;
Or tell it to the talking cataracts
To ease my need of speech. An hour's patience,
Which seems as long as the preceding year,
And I shall know. [He sits down and
falls into a contemplation; then into a doze. As he falls asleep,
enter quietly Treason.]
Arnold. [Speaking as if out of his sleep.]
Leave me alone. Thou thing of little might!
Thou painted bogey! I am conscience-proof,
And care no more what names I may be called.
If thou cans't make this hour glide more swift,
With idle chat of owls and haunted men,
I'll take thee for a gossip. Sit you there
And hide the hour-glass. There was a time
In early boyhood, when a thing like thee
Seemed horrible, but now my mouth is dry
With other terror. Thou art a cap and bells:
Play me a ditty on a tambourine.
[Starting up.] Who goes there?
[Rushes to Smith, who enters.]
Tell me that he is safe!
Joshua Smith. Within the lines,—
Almost within the lines,—I left the youth.
He's safe in British hands; and by his time,
Is telling his adventures to Sir Henry.
Arnold. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Is it not a joke, Joshua?
Ha, ha, ha!
This is a joke that shall run crackling through
America, like Samson's burning foxes.
Ha, ha, ha!—André is in New York!
A spasm of joy; and yet it pains my leg.
Your hand, my friend. The laughter comes again—
Ha, ha, ha! Now let them vote! Brigadier Generals
May rain on this accursed land of pain
As fast as Congress spawns them! Now, ye rats!
Who shall squirm last, I ask ye?
[To Smith.] Safe, you say?
You saw him with the British?
Smith. Not quite so;
But at their outposts.
Arnold. It will take a day
Before I can believe it. I am drunk
With the intoxication of revenge,
Sweeter than wine. A day of jubilee
Shall follow all our torments, Joshua Smith.
Out on ye, pack of curs! I have ye now,
Where ye'll not yelp so freely.—Ha, ha, ha—
Ha, ha, ha, ha!—And God I thank thee, too.
Justice is in the world.
Help me to the fortress. Mercy, how it pains!
Justice! Revenge! And, Joshua,—what a joke!
[Exeunt Arnold and Smith.]