[Exit with emotion.
M'Donald.
Triumph of virtue!
Like him and thee, still be Americans.
Then, tho' all-powerful Europe league against us,
And pour in arms her legions on our shores;
Who is so dull would doubt their shameful flight?
Who doubt our safety, and our glorious triumph?
Scene, the Prison.
Enter Bland.
Bland.
Lingering, I come to crush the bud of hope
My breath has, flattering, to existence warm'd.
Hard is the task to friendship! hard to say,
To the lov'd object there remains no hope,
No consolation for thee; thou must die;
The worst of deaths; no circumstance abated.
Enter André in his uniform, and dress'd.
André.
Is there that state on earth which friendship cannot cheer?