Winter and death may change the scene, The cold may freeze, the ball may kill, And dire misfortunes intervene; But freedom shall be potent still To drive these Britons from our shore, Who, cruel and unkind, With slavish chain Attempt in vain Our freeborn limbs to bind. _Pasq._ O, excellent--"Our freeborn limbs to bind"--by my soul, they never shall bind mine. Harry, give us another song on our affairs and then we'll be ready. _All._ Ay, ay; another, another. _2nd P._ I have not many by heart. I do recollect one at present, but it was made at the beginning of the war. _All._ No matter, no matter; let's hear it. _2nd P._ [_Sings_ The cohorts of Britain are now all complete, She has brushed up her soldiers and manned out her fleet; The lion has roared whose trade is to kill, And we are the victims whose blood he must spill. But ere I am slaughtered and wrapped in a shroud I must tell you the motive that makes him so proud. The monkeys and puppies that bow to his rule Have told him a lie and deceived the old fool. They say we are cowards, not dressed in red coats, That he without danger may cut all our throats; If we see but a Briton, confounded with fear, We'll throw down our muskets and run like a deer. That one thousand men with a captain would dare To march from New Hampshire to Georgia, they swear. But here lies the trick of these wonderful men, They tell us they'll do it, but do not say when. Such a motive to fight would you ever conceive, Yet such is the motive that makes him so brave. On such a presumption, in hopes of applause, He whets up his grinders and sharpens his claws. But hark, Mr. Lion, and be not so stout, In fancy alone you have put us to rout. To show you how little your threat'nings avail, Here's a kick at your breech and a clip at your tail.[39] * * * * * * * But everything seems poisoned where I tread, And I am tortured to perfection. [_Exit. Enter an officer of the guard_ SCENE IV.--_Another apartment in said house. Enter_ AIDE _to_ GEN. ARNOLD. _Aide._ General Arnold here? _Jeff._ Two hours have hardly yet elapsed since he Across the river to the garrison On some important business went in haste, So as I told to his attendant here. For since the general parted I arrived. Is he, then, at the garrison? by heaven, We'll have him in a trice. _Aide._ You'll have him in a trice. Pray, what means that? _Jeff._ I see your ignorance, my honest friend. Why such a damned, unnatural plot has happened That when I mention it, if you have feeling, At the first word your blood must chill with horror And admiration shake your very soul. This traitor Arnold, this vile, abandoned traitor, This monster of ingratitude unequalled, Has been conspiring with an English spy To render tip the fort to General Clinton.