Chapter 9

_Enter a MINISTER._

MINISTER.

My friends, I yet will hail you good morrow, tho' I know not how long we may be indulg'd that liberty to each other; doleful tidings I have to tell.

SELECTMAN. With sorrow we have heard it, good morrow, sir.

MINISTER. Wou'd to God it may prove false, and that it may vanish like the dew of the morning.

CITIZEN. Beyond a doubt, sir, it's too true.

MINISTER. Perhaps, my friends, you have not heard all.

SELECTMAN. We have heard too much, of the troops and ships coming over, we suppose you mean; we have not heard more, if more there be.

MINISTER. Then worse I have to tell, tidings which will raise the blood of the patriot, and put your virtue to the proof, will kindle such an ardent love of liberty in your breasts, as time will not be able to exterminate--

CITIZEN. Pray, let us hear it, I'm all on fire.

SELECTMAN. I'm impatient to know it, welcome or unwelcome.

MINISTER. Such as it is, take it; your charter is annihilated; you are all, all declared rebels; your estates are to be confiscated; your patrimony to be given to those who never labour'd for it; popery to be established in the room of the true catholic faith; the Old South, and other houses of our God, converted perhaps into nunneries, inquisitions, barracks and common jails, where you will perish with want and famine, or suffer an ignominious death; your wives, children, dearest relations and friends forever separated from you in this world, without the prospect of receiving any comfort or consolation from them, or the least hope of affording any to them.

SELECTMAN. Perish the thought!

CITIZEN. I've heard enough!--To arms! my dear friends, to arms! and death or freedom be our motto!

MINISTER. A noble resolution! Posterity will crown the urn of the patriot who consecrates his talents to virtue and freedom; his name shall not be forgot; his reputation shall bloom with unfading verdure, while the name of the tyrant, like his vile body, shall moulder in the dust. Put your trust in the Lord of hosts, he is your strong tower, he is your helper and defense, he will guide and strengthen the arm of flesh, and scatter your enemies like chaff.

SELECTMAN. Let us not hesitate.

CITIZEN. Not a single moment;--'tis like to prove a mortal strife, a never-ending contest.

MINISTER. Delays may be dangerous.--Go and awake your brethren that sleep;--rouse them up from their lethargy and supineness, and join, with confidence, temporal with spiritual weapons. Perhaps they be now landing, and this moment, this very moment, may be the last of your liberty. Prepare yourselves--be ready--stand fast--ye know not the day nor the hour. May the Ruler of all send us liberty and life. Adieu! my friends.

[_Exeunt._