RICHARD. There's a patriot for you! Would I could do such deeds as he can do. Oh, all I think of is to serve my country--my city and my country! RIGBY. That's all I think on, too. RICHARD (amazed). You, Tom Rigby? RIGBY (somewhat bitterly). Did I seem to you only a waistcoat with buttons? Nay, don't protest! 'Tis how most folks think of me. What have I to do with valor? I'm Tom the landlord, Tom the tapster, Tom the tavern-keeper! How should they guess in me Tom the patriot, Tom the hero-worshiper? And yet there's not one bit of my country's past, not one smallest Indian war but what has meaning for me. What do you think those chests are full of? Trophies! RICHARD. Trophies! RIGBY. From all the wars we've had. (Unlocks chest at right wall, excitedly.) Look! Tomahawks. Headdresses. (Taking things out of chest.) Feathers. A war-knife. An Indian robe taken in Philip's war. RICHARD. (delighted: interested). In Philip's war. RIGBY. (with emotion). They're more to me than a king's ransom! [He pauses, looking over contents of chest. RICHARD (going back to seat by fire, and speaking to himself as he sits by it). A king's ransom! What have we to do with kings, who cannot even thwart the tyrant who would rule us! If there was but some way---- [Sits, lost in thought. RIGBY (putting trophies back in chest, looking at them fondly, and singing softly for the sheer joy of touching them). "Oh, a seaman's life is a jolly life--Trol de rol, de rol!" Wampum. A woven blanket. A peace-pipe. (Sings.) I had a goodly old sea-chest, Twas filled with--India dyes. Oh, wide the harbor, deep the sea, Five fathoms down it lies! Five fathoms down it lies! RICHARD (half-hearing Tom's voice, and repeating to himself). "Five fathoms deep it lies----" (In a suddenly electrified voice.) Tom! Tom Rigby! I have the way! Your song has given it to me! I have the way! [He has rushed to Rigby. RIGBY (as sounds of approaching footsteps are heard without). Hush! Here come the Sons of Freedom! (Door is flung open. Rigby's professional manner asserts itself.) Welcome, my lads. Come in! Come in! WINWOOD (to Richard). Are we on time? What have you planned for us, Dick? My hands and heart are ready for a night's work! (Offering his portion of cider in loving- cup fashion.) Some cider? RICHARD. No. I've supped on revolution! WINWOOD. Would there were something stirring! RICHARD (throughout with growing excitement). Are folk still in the Old South Meeting-house? WINWOOD (impatiently). Aye, still talking of what's to be done. Hancock and Paul Revere are at a coffee-house. COREY (as the lads gather about table). Come, Dick, you've heard the governor's reply. How would _you_ deal with the taxers? RICHARD (at table, center, one foot on table and one on chair). I'd set their tea to brew! ALL (amazed). What! RICHARD. In a monstrous teapot! PEABODY (jesting). As big as Rigby's bowl. RICHARD (flaming with excitement). Oh, larger! Larger!