General monologue (Act 3) — André

No more, my good young friend: it is in vain. The men entrusted with thy country's rights Have weigh'd, attentive, every circumstance. An individual's virtue is, by them, As highly prized as it can be by thee. I know the virtues of this man, and love them. But the destiny of millions, millions Yet unborn, depends upon the rigour Of this moment. The haughty Briton laughs To scorn our armies and our councils. Mercy, Humanity, call loudly, that we make Our now despised power be felt, vindictive. Millions demand the death of this young man. My injur'd country, he his forfeit life Must yield, to shield thy lacerated breast From torture. [_To BLAND._] Thy merits are not overlook'd. Promotion shall immediately attend thee.