Chapter 23

COL. ALLEN. What! ye infernal monsters! murder us in the dark?--What place is this?--Who reigns king of these gloomy mansions?--You might favour us at least with one spark of light--Ye cannot see to do your business here.

OFFICER. 'Tis our orders.

COL. ALLEN. Ye dear, ye brave, wretched friends!--now would I die for ye all--ye share a death I wou'd gladly excuse you from--'Tis not death I fear--this is only bodily death--but to die noteless in the silent dark, is to die scorn'd, and shame our suff'ring country--we fall undignify'd by villains' hands--a sacrifice to Britain's outcast blood-hounds--This, this shakes the soul!--Come then, ye murderers, since it must be so--do your business speedily--Farewell, my friends! to die with you is now my noblest claim since to die for you was a choice deny'd--What are ye about?--Stand off, ye wretches!

OFFICER. I am order'd to lay you in irons. [_They seize him._] You must submit.

COL. ALLEN. What, do you mean to torture us to death with chains, racks and gibbets? rather despatch us immediately--Ye executioners, ye inquisitors, does this cruelty proceed from the lenity I shewed to the prisoners I took?--Did it offend you that I treated them with friendship, generosity, honour and humanity?--If it did, our suff'rings will redound more to our honour, and our fall be the more glorious--But remember, this fall will prove your own one day--Wretches! I fear you not, do your worst; and while I here lay suff'ring and chain'd on my back to the damp floor, I'll yet pray for your conversion.

OFFICER. Excuse us, we have only obey'd our order.

COL. ALLEN. Then I forgive you; but pray execute them.

_Oh! my lost friends! 'tis liberty, not breath, Gives the brave life. Shun slav'ry more than death. He who spurns fear, and dares disdain to be, Mocks chains and wrongs--and is forever free; While the base coward, never safe, tho' low, Creeps but to suff'rings, and lives on for woe!_

[_Exeunt GUARDS._