Of easy conquest vanish into air.

[_Enter a_ COMPANY _of_ MILITIA _with
their_ OFFICERS, _unarmed. They salute, march
across the stage, and make their exit_.]

What men are those? Their faces are familiar.

ROBINSON. Some farmers whom you furloughed at Fort
George,
To tend their fields, which still they leave half-
reaped
To meet invasion.

BROCK. I remember it!
The jarring needs of harvest-time and war,
Twixt whose necessities grave hazards lay.

ROBINSON. They only thought to save their children's
bread,
And then return to battle with light hearts.
For, though their hard necessities o'erpoised
Their duty for the moment, these are men.
Who draw their pith from loyal roots, their sires,
Dug up by revolution, and cast out
To hovel in the bitter wilderness,
And wring, with many a tussle, from the wolf
Those very fields which cry for harvesters.

BROCK. O I observed them closely at Fort George--