'Tis stirred enough already! Go on, lad, quickly!

RICHARD.
Josiah Quincy is presiding at the New Old South. 'Twas he who thought
of sending word to the governor. And now the governor has refused, and
if there's nothing done we're _beaten_--beaten, Tom Rigby, we who so
love freedom!

RIGBY.
Tut! Tut! Lad! The night's not done yet. Are they still at the meeting?

RICHARD.
Aye, and are like to be for the next hour. 'Tis scarcely six--just
candle-lighting time.

RIGBY.
You look white, lad. Have you eaten?

RICHARD.
Eaten! On such a day as this!

RIGBY.
Nonsense, lad. You must keep up your strength. (Crosses to serving-
table where bowl stands.) Here! If you will not eat, at least you can
drink a cup of steaming lemon punch. No _lads_ who come to my tavern
get anything stronger--unless, mayhap, a cup of apple juice. Youth is
its own best wine. Cider for you. Burgundy for your betters, eh, lad?
(Gives Richard a cup and takes a cup himself.) Here's to taxless tea!
(Drinks.)