[_The Drummers play another roll on their drums and the Chronicler sits._ _Off stage, to a noble tune which gradually increases in volume, the Chorus sings two verses from Drayton’s “To the Virginian Voyage.”_] THE CHORUS You brave, heroic minds, Worthy your country’s name, That honor still pursue; Go and subdue! Whilst loitering hinds Lurk here at home with shame. And in regions far, Such heroes bring ye forth As those from whom we came; And plant our name Under that star Not known unto our north. [_As the singing diminishes, the light grows upon the thrones of the two Spokesmen and they begin. They speak eagerly, almost in a monotone, following no rhythm but the inevitable throb of Carlyle’s prose. The bell, too, follows this throb, sounding ever louder and more insistently through their words._] THE FIRST SPOKESMAN The world is all so changed; so much that seemed vigorous has sunk decrepit, so much that was not is beginning to be! THE SECOND SPOKESMAN (_Swinging antiphonally into tone and tempo._) Borne over the Atlantic what sounds are these; muffled-ominous, new in our centuries? THE FIRST SPOKESMAN Boston Harbor is black with unexpected Tea! THE SECOND SPOKESMAN Behold a Pennsylvanian Congress gather! THE FIRST SPOKESMAN And ere long, on Bunker Hill.... THE SECOND SPOKESMAN DEMOCRACY.... THE FIRST SPOKESMAN Announcing in rifle-volleys, death winged.... THE SECOND SPOKESMAN Under her Star Banner.... THE FIRST SPOKESMAN To the tune of Yankee-Doodle-Doo.... THE SECOND SPOKESMAN That she is _born_.... THE FIRST SPOKESMAN And whirlwind-like.... THE SECOND SPOKESMAN Will envelope the whole world! [_The drums roll out. The lights die down on the Spokesmen. In the meanwhile, answering the summons of the bell ringer, the people of Lexington have come out of street and tavern in the twilight and gathered about the Meeting House steps._ _Jonas Clark has gone to them to stand upon the steps facing them. He is now in his forty-fifth year, a vigorous, lean, eager man with a spirit of gripping and convincing sincerity._ _At the conclusion of the words of the Spokesmen, all of the villagers are gathered together about their pastor, save one girl. She is distinguished from her sisters of the village, less by her dress (which is commonplace enough) than by a strange and wild loveliness and by a deep absorption in her own thoughts. She is tall and very beautiful and a prophetic intensity possesses her._ _Led by their pastor, the people about the Meeting House lift their voices in the fifty-ninth Psalm._] PARSON CLARK Deliver me from mine enemies, O my God: set me on high from those that rise up against me. Deliver me from the workers of iniquity, and save me from the blood-thirsty men. THE PEOPLE