SCENE I.--_Enter an aide-de-camp from_ GENERAL WASHINGTON _to_ ARNOLD.

_Scene, West Point Fort. Time, midnight._

_Aide D. C._ Sir, I am sent by our renowned general To let you know that in his best opinion Five hundred men in reason are too few To man the works of this important post. Three thousand, he informs, are at your service, Lying at camp, with stores and baggage ready, Whene'er you send a requisition for them.

_Arnold._ Five hundred are too few! Why, sir, what means he? I do assert, and do insist upon it, That with the aid of scant two hundred men I could defend this fort and all its outworks (Its strength is so prodigious in defence) Against ten legions of the boldest Britons, With Clinton at the head to lead them on, Whether he choose to come by sea or land.

_Aide D. C._ Well be it so. I have discharged my duty In bringing you our noble general's message. Pray, sir, have you commands to send from hence? My time to stay is short; I must be going.

_Arnold._ Tho' I am steady to my sentiment, That these five hundred men are full sufficient, Yet, to comply with the spirit of his meaning, You may inform the general, two hours' warning Will bring me in four thousand of militia. They are as rugged and as hardy fellows, As bold and desperate in the works of war, As skilled to hit the mark or push the bagnet, As any of the choicest continentals. Pray tell the general this, and I am sure, I'm satisfied, he'll be of my opinion. [_Exit Aide D. C._

_Arnold_ (_solus_). This is the time for dark and dangerous action; This is the time that thieves and murderers choose To execute their desperate designs. But art thou, Arnold, less than murderer, Who thus prepare to stab thy bleeding country? And can I then descend to be a traitor! By honest toils a name have I acquired, Great and unequalled in the rolls of fame; And shall that name to infamy be doomed By one base act that mars and cankers all? For this have I in winter's joyless reign Explored the naked wilds of northern clime, When mid the snows and frosts and chilling winds Cold earth has been my bed. Ambition, rise And fire my soul to nobler purposes. To-morrow Major Andre comes to meet me, And I am to consult on ways and means To give this fort up to my country's foes. Shall I repent of my unjust proceedings, Admit this daring Briton to my portal, And say I did thus to entrap the man Who is grand vizar to Sir Henry Clinton? Whose scheming head doth hurt our country more Than all their host beside? But that would be ungenerous--more than that, Ten thousand guineas are the offered price Of my desertion--more than that, perhaps I shall henceforward be caressed by kings And bear a generalship that may reduce These states revolted back to Britain's sway. * * * * * For now I do imagine They have no rights, no claims to independence. Born were we all, subjected to a king, And that subjection must return again. The people are not dull republicans, By nature they incline to monarchy. How glorious should I be to have a share In bringing back my country to allegiance. Can France uphold them in their proud demand, That race of puny, base, perfidious dogs? Sooner shall all the house of Bourbon sink Their Rochambault, D'Estang and La Fayette, And Spain confederate cease to be a nation, And all their allies dwindle into atoms, Ere Britain will withdraw her righteous claim Or yield a jot of her dominion here To any people living. Then, Andre, come, The sooner Britain gains this fort the better.