men, and a little more generous with your own brains.

SWINDON. I am sorry I cannot pretend to your intellectual
eminence, sir. I can only do my best, and rely on the devotion of
my countrymen.

BURGOYNE (suddenly becoming suavely sarcastic). May I ask are you
writing a melodrama, Major Swindon?

SWINDON (flushing). No, sir.

BURGOYNE. What a pity! WHAT a pity! (Dropping his sarcastic tone
and facing him suddenly and seriously) Do you at all realize,
sir, that we have nothing standing between us and destruction but
our own bluff and the sheepishness of these colonists? They are
men of the same English stock as ourselves: six to one of us
(repeating it emphatically), six to one, sir; and nearly half our
troops are Hessians, Brunswickers, German dragoons, and Indians
with scalping knives. These are the countrymen on whose devotion
you rely! Suppose the colonists find a leader! Suppose the news
from Springtown should turn out to mean that they have already
found a leader! What shall we do then? Eh?

SWINDON (sullenly). Our duty, sir, I presume.

BURGOYNE (again sarcastic--giving him up as a fool). Quite so,
quite so. Thank you, Major Swindon, thank you. Now you've settled
the question, sir--thrown a flood of light on the situation. What
a comfort to me to feel that I have at my side so devoted and
able an officer to support me in this emergency! I think, sir, it