Page:Representative American plays.pdf/112

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For gales propitious; that his eager arms

May clasp his wife, may bless his little ones.

O, bow the tide of joy makes my heart bound,

Glowing with high and ardent expectation!

. Here we are, Mamma, up, and dress'd already.

. And why were ye so early?

. Why, did not you tell us that Papa was to be home to-day?

. I said, perhaps.

. (Disappointed.) Perhaps!

. I don't like perhaps's.

. No, nor I neither; nor "may-be-so's."

. We make not certainties, my pretty loves;

I do not like "perhaps's" more than you do.

. O, don't say so. Mama! for I 'm sure I hardly ever ask you anything but you answer me with "may be so,"—"perhaps,"—or "very likely." "Mamma, shall I go to the camp to-morrow, and see the General?" "May be so, my dear." Hang "may be so," say I!

. Well said, Sir Pertness!

. But I am sure, Mama, you said, that, to-day. Papa would have his liberty.

. So your dear father, by his letters, told me.

. Why, then, I am sure he will be here to-day. When he can come to us, I 'm sure he will not stay among those strange Englishmen and Hessians. I often wish'd that I had wings to fly, for then I would soon be with him.

. Dear boy!

. An express. Madam, from New York to Head-quarters, in passing, delivered this.

. Papa 's coming home to-day, John.

(Exeunt and .)

. What fears assail me! O, I did not want

A letter now!

(She reads in great agitation, exclaiming, while her eyes are fixed on the paper:)

My husband! doomed to die! Retaliation!

(She looks forward with wildness, consternation, and horror.)

To die, if André dies! He dies to-day!

My husband to be murdered! And to-day!

To-day, if André dies! Retaliation!

O curst contrivance! Madness relieve me!

Burst, burst, my brain! Yet—André is not dead;

My husband lives. (Looks at the letter.) "One man has power."

I fly to save the father of my children!

(Rushes out.)

, the ''quarters. The and  come forward''.}}

. (Papers in his hand.) Captain, you are noted here with honorable

Praises. Depend upon that countenance

From me, which you have prov'd yourself so richly

Meriting. Both for your father's virtues

And your own, your country owes you honor—

The sole return the poor can make for service.

. If from my country ought I 've merited,

Or gain'd the approbation of her champion,

At any other time I should not dare,

Presumptuously, to show my sense of it;

But now my tongue, all shameless, dares to name

The boon, the precious recompense, I wish,

Which, granted, pays all service, past or future,

O'erpays the utmost I can e'er achieve.

. Brief, my young friend, briefly, your purpose.

. If I have done my duty as a soldier;

If I have brav'd all dangers for my country;

If my brave father has deserved aught;

Call all to mind—and cancel all—but grant

My one request—mine, and humanity's.