_Maj. André._ Most gladly, my angel; I can prolong half an hour yet in your agreeable company.
You chide me and tell me I must not complain To part a few days from my favourite swain. He is gone to the battle and leaves me to mourn, And say what you please, he will never return.
When he left me he kissed me, and said, my sweet dear, In less than a month I again will be here; With anguish and sorrow my bosom did burn, And I wept, being sure he would never return.
I said, my dear creature, I beg you would stay, But he with his soldiers went strutting away. Then why should I longer my sorrows adjourn, For I know in my heart he will never return.
Whenever there's danger he loves to be there, He fights like a hero when others despair. In this expedition he goes to his urn; You call me a fool if he ever return.
_Maj. André._ The application of this I must take to myself, I suppose. Fie upon you, lady; you need to divert me with merry jokes and a strain of wit peculiar to yourself. You now are pensive, demure, and melancholy. You make me so, too.
_Lucinda._ Yonder comes Sir Henry. I suppose he has some private business with you. I must retire.
[_Exit Lucinda. Enter Sir Henry and others_
_Maj. André._ How do your Excellencies? Will you please to sit?
Till you return from this important errand I am a slave to impatience, Major André. I beg you would this night equip with speed, And on an eagle's wings to Arnold haste. The frigate lies at single anchor ready, And winds propitious to our purpose blow. But hark ye, friend, and tell the general then That if he can by any means at all, On any artful, plausible pretence, So manage matters and with such address As to entice the great Americ chief, At that same hour the fort is yielded to us, There to be present on some feigned business, That so we may be master of his person, Tell him if he does this his pay is double. Besides ten thousand guineas we have promised, Ten thousand more with gratitude I'll pay, And think him cheaply bought. He is the soul, The great upholder of this long contention. I dread his prudence and his courage more Than all the armies that the Congress raise, Than all the troops or all the ships of France.
Well thought! I shall obey your Excellency. It is a bold and dangerous undertaking, 'Tis hazardous, but not impossible. To win on this great chief--'tis a bright thought. He'll think himself as safe at West Point Fort As in the bosom of his spacious camp, And therefore will not hesitate to come Only attended by a score of guards. The same attempt may seize the fort and him.