RICHARD (affable, but obstinate). Come: you don't mean to say that you've brought me here without knowing who I am?
SWINDON. As a matter of form, sir, give your name.
RICHARD. As a matter of form then, my name is Anthony Anderson, Presbyterian minister in this town.
BURGOYNE (interested). Indeed! Pray, Mr. Anderson, what do you gentlemen believe?
RICHARD. I shall be happy to explain if time is allowed me. I cannot undertake to complete your conversion in less than a fortnight.
SWINDON (snubbing him). We are not here to discuss your views.
BURGOYNE (with an elaborate bow to the unfortunate Swindon). I stand rebuked.
SWINDON (embarrassed). Oh, not you, I as--
BURG0YNE. Don't mention it. (To Richard, very politely) Any political views, Mr. Anderson?
RICHARD. I understand that that is just what we are here to find out.
SWINDON (severely). Do you mean to deny that you are a rebel?
RICHARD. I am an American, sir.
SWINDON. What do you expect me to think of that speech, Mr. Anderson?
RICHARD. I never expect a soldier to think, sir.
Burgoyne is boundlessly delighted by this retort, which almost reconciles him to the loss of America.
SWINDON (whitening with anger). I advise you not to be insolent, prisoner.
RICHARD. You can't help yourself, General. When you make up your mind to hang a man, you put yourself at a disadvantage with him.
Why should I be civil to you? I may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.
SWINDON. You have no right to assume that the court has made up its mind without a fair trial. And you will please not address me as General. I am Major Swindon.
RICHARD. A thousand pardons. I thought I had the honor of addressing Gentlemanly Johnny.
Sensation among the officers. The sergeant has a narrow escape from a guffaw.
BURGOYNE (with extreme suavity). I believe I am Gentlemanly Johnny, sir, at your service. My more intimate friends call me General Burgoyne. (Richard bows with perfect politeness.) You will understand, sir, I hope, since you seem to be a gentleman and a man of some spirit in spite of your calling, that if we should have the misfortune to hang you, we shall do so as a mere matter of political necessity and military duty, without any personal ill-feeling.
RICHARD. Oh, quite so. That makes all the difference in the world, of course.
They all smile in spite of themselves: and some of the younger officers burst out laughing.
JUDITH (her dread and horror deepening at every one of these jests and compliments). How CAN you?
RICHARD. You promised to be silent.
BURGOYNE (to Judith, with studied courtesy). Believe me, madam, your husband is placing us under the greatest obligation by taking this very disagreeable business so thoroughly in the spirit of a gentleman. Sergeant: give Mr. Anderson a chair. (The sergeant does so. Richard sits down.) Now, Major Swindon: we are waiting for you.
SWINDON. You are aware, I presume, Mr. Anderson, of your obligations as a subject of His Majesty King George the Third.
RICHARD. I am aware, sir, that His Majesty King George the Third is about to hang me because I object to Lord North's robbing me.
SWINDON. That is a treasonable speech, sir.
RICHARD (briefly). Yes. I meant it to be.
BURGOYNE (strongly deprecating this line of defence, but still polite). Don't you think, Mr. Anderson, that this is rather--if you will excuse the word--a vulgar line to take? Why should you cry out robbery because of a stamp duty and a tea duty and so forth? After all, it is the essence of your position as a gentleman that you pay with a good grace.
RICHARD. It is not the money, General. But to be swindled by a pig-headed lunatic like King George SWINDON (scandalised). Chut, sir--silence!
SERGEANT (in stentorian tones, greatly shocked). Silence!
BURGOYNE (unruffled). Ah, that is another point of view. My position does not allow of my going into that, except in private.
But (shrugging his shoulders) of course, Mr. Anderson, if you are determined to be hanged (Judith flinches), there's nothing more to be said. An unusual taste! however (with a final shrug)--!
SWINDON (to Burgoyne). Shall we call witnesses?
RICHARD. What need is there of witnesses? If the townspeople here had listened to me, you would have found the streets barricaded, the houses loopholed, and the people in arms to hold the town against you to the last man. But you arrived, unfortunately, before we had got out of the talking stage; and then it was too late.
SWINDON (severely). Well, sir, we shall teach you and your townspeople a lesson they will not forget. Have you anything more to say?
RICHARD. I think you might have the decency to treat me as a prisoner of war, and shoot me like a man instead of hanging me like a dog.
BURGOYNE (sympathetically). Now there, Mr. Anderson, you talk like a civilian, if you will excuse my saying so. Have you any idea of the average marksmanship of the army of His Majesty King George the Third? If we make you up a firing party, what will happen? Half of them will miss you: the rest will make a mess of the business and leave you to the provo-marshal's pistol. Whereas we can hang you in a perfectly workmanlike and agreeable way.
(Kindly) Let me persuade you to be hanged, Mr. Anderson?
JUDITH (sick with horror). My God!
RICHARD (to Judith). Your promise! (To Burgoyne) Thank you, General: that view of the case did not occur to me before. To oblige you, I withdraw my objection to the rope. Hang me, by all means.
BURGOYNE (smoothly). Will 12 o'clock suit you, Mr. Anderson?
RICHARD. I shall be at your disposal then, General.
BURGOYNE (rising). Nothing more to be said, gentlemen. (They all rise.)
JUDITH (rushing to the table). Oh, you are not going to murder a man like that, without a proper trial--without thinking of what you are doing--without-- (She cannot find words.)
RICHARD. Is this how you keep your promise?
JUDITH. If I am not to speak, you must. Defend yourself: save yourself: tell them the truth.
