SCENE I.
MONTMORENCI, the FRENCH CAMP. MONTCALM and LEVI.
MONTCALM.
I'VE just receiv'd intelligence, that all
The English army is embark'd in boats,
And one division is already swiftly
Row'd beyond Quebec; the rest by all their
Motions, seem inclin'd to follow them.
Levi.
Then doubtless they'll attempt to land so near
As possible;
Shou'd we not, Sir, endeavour to oppose
And repel them, or give them a baneful
Welcome?
Montcalm.
Of that I've taken care.—
I've order'd Monsieur Bougainville
To draw out two thousand from the camp, and
Watch their motions: He marches this way,
And will soon be here for orders.
French drums beat a march.
He comes with hasty steps and pleasure in his looks.
Enter Bougainville, addressing himself to Montcalm.
Sir, your orders are obey'd:
I've march'd two thousand from the camp, men well
Resolv'd and ea [...]er to per [...]orm the duty you impose.
Montcalm.
'Tis well Sir;—
May they answer ou [...] b [...]st expectations.
Proceed you now, and lead these men to the
[Page 57]Banks of the river, and wait in ambush
For the landing of the British troops, and
Choose your posts as time and circumstances
Will permit, to the best advantage.
As they row up the river, be sure you
Upward march likewise; whene'er they stop, then
Halt; if they fall down the stream, retreat with
Them, that in ev'ry sh [...]pe (like their evil
Genius) you may keep pace with them; and on
Their debarkation, be ready boldly
To receive them, in a show'r of leaden
Vengeance, wing'd with flame.
Bougainv [...]lle.
Be not afraid Sir, but we'll receive them
As we ought; for tho' they land, cloth'd in all
The terrors their boasted dreadful triple
Union can assume, I doubt not but we
Shall bring back with us, a good account of
These few aud
[...]cious Britons.
Going.
Montcalm.
But mark me well, Sir, should they downward bend
Their course, and row as if they meant to reach
Quebec, or L [...]vi's Point again, then
Dispatch me word imm [...]diately, and with
Your main corps follow the messenger to
The camp, with all the speed you can.
Exit Bougainville bowing. French troops beat a ma [...].
Levi.
Think you, Sir, Monsieur de Bougai [...]ville
Has troops enough with him, to repeal all
The British forces, should they attempt to land?
Montcalm.
All things together weigh'd▪ I think he has▪
He and his corps h [...]ve often trod the ground,
And in the darkest night can measure out
Its distance well: No thought of am [...]ush can
Alarm them, they tread on friendly ground, and
Are you know sustain'd by savages, tra [...]n'd
Up to night adventures, and to lurkin [...] fights:
These Britons ne'er saw the ground, but at a
Distant view; and when they land, will tread at
[Page 58]Each uncertain step a hostile shore, and
Must come on in dread of pitf [...]lls, breast works,
Entrenchments, batteries, and ambuscades;
And when they shall receive the fire from our
Two thousand, their own fears, and the horrors
Of the night (full of black uncertainty)
Will multiply them to ten thousand strong.
Levi.
From which I may presume you wou'd infer,
They'll soon retreat back to their boats, or fall
A daring sacrifice, by a brik fire,
Kept up by our troops and friendly Indians.
Montcalm.
I do infer no less:—
Yet policy suggests I shou'd not march
The main body thither, least they evade
Us, and in the night [...]ing, make good
Their landing at Montmorenci, and seize
Upon our camp untenable by few.
You've not forgot the fierce attack they made
On all our troops, in their first bold attempt.
And this I have t' observe, shou'd Bougainville
Be put to rout by rage unparallel'd,
And their rough impetuous charge, they know
Each avenue and path, and safely can
Retreat, whilst we to sustain them march out
With all our force, oppose rage to rage, check
The furious ardor of their souls, and from
Their weary troops, ravish with ease th' infant
Victory.
Levi.
I'm satisfy'd, and cannot doubt success.
Montcalm.
Let us to the camp repair, and put all
In order for an attack upon us,
Or an evacuation; these Britons
Are not to be despis'd: they surely are,
I fear, meditating some grand design.
The gath'ring storm must e'er long fall somewhere;
And on that dubious hour the Gallic
Honour, Cana [...]ia's well, our own bright fame,
Britannia's enterprize, and Wolfe's rising
Glory hangs.
[Page 59]Whene'er it falls, I'll face the low'ring storm,
Let death put on th' most tremendous form;
With Wolfe I'll grapple for the laurel crown,
Tho' mighty fate against my purpose frown:
Yet if I fall, in death, 'tis some relief,
Britons were foes I fought, and wond'rous Wolfe their Chief!
[A woody scene, as if on the top of a bill, or precipice; and as near to the scene as possib [...]e, to make room for the more ample scene of the Height of Abraham soon After.]
[Colonel behind the scenes.]
Advance briskly on them, my brave fellows!
Climb that precipice, and close with the enemy!
A discharge of small arms and a shout. Enter several French soldiers retreating before an English Councel, at the head of some [...]ight infantry: As they run across the stage, scene draws, and discovers a larger view of the Height of Abraham.
SCENE V.
WOLFE, as the head of the troops; a march beating; and opposite, as from MONTCALM's camp, enter an [...]
Officer,
addressing himself to WOLFE.
Sir, I came from reconn [...]t [...]ing Montcalm's
Camp▪ where with all the haste they're masters of▪
They're arming, evacuating the tre [...]ches.
And forming on the plain; they seem inclin'd
To save us the trouble of forcing their
E [...]trenchments, and in a few minutes we may
Expect them here.
Wolfe, turning to the soldiers.
Now the completion of your wishes is
At hand! you no more shall pant for war, and
With impatience glow, chiding the ta [...]dy
Hours which roll'd inactively away,
Nor shall you ask indignantly again,
When shall we meet and rush upon our foes?
And battle with them, bay'net to bay'net,
Sword to sword, front to front, and man to man?
They all shout, and several call out.
[Page 64]Lead us on to glorious death▪ or victory!
To glorious death, or victory! lead us on!
An Officer advances from the rear.
W [...]lfe.
Is the artillery well advanc'd?
Offi [...]er.
They have already gain'd the rear,
And t'wixt the flanks of diff'rent corps, they are
A [...]vanci [...]g to the front with intrepid
[...], and ready to eject their mingled
Storm of le [...]d and iron, to deform the
[...] of war.
Wolfe.
When they have gain'd the front, (pregnant with fate)
Let our fulminating engines bellow
Britannia' salutation to the French;
'Midst which we will advance, careering in
The thunder storm.
Are all the corps dispos'd of as I order'd?
Officer.
Col'nel [...]owe, and his light infantry, are
Dra [...]n in a semicircle round our rear, and
Left fl [...]nk, and form an offensive moving
[...]ulwark against th' incu [...]ions of such foes,
A [...] may be lu [...]king in the adjacent coppie [...],
Where doubtless all their Indians sculk:
Ev'ry other officer, and corps, fill their
Stations in the field.
Wolfe.
Then we are ready for the onset:
Good Providence! be [...]rie [...]d us.
Officer.
Whilst taversing the field, from rank to rank,
I found a s [...]mpathetic resolution
Spread from man to man; each l [...]ader glowing
With an indignant noble emulation
For glory▪ ( [...]ith sparkling eyes, brimful of
Fierce delight, and steady countenance) strove
To animate his corps, who stood alert:
And when the drum [...] began to beat, join'd with
The sh [...]ill [...], when the brisk c [...]an [...]o [...]s of the
Tr [...]mpets echo'd thro' the ranks, and the deep
Thro [...]ed cannons roar'd a dread prelude to
[Page 65]The battle, their gen'rous souls [...]ilated
With a warlike p [...]ide! then ( [...]ke Jo [...]'s war-horse)
They bid adi [...]u to [...]ear, and with genuine
Freeborn ardor, eager for close action.
Join'd in loud concert with the m [...]rtial grand
Enliv'ning melody▪ sending [...]rth the [...]r
Wo [...]ted cheering shout [...] of exaltation!
Wolfe
[ [...] to the soldiers.]
In view, before us lies
the plenteous field
Of martial glory, in which this day we
A [...]e to reap, with honourable [...]oil, a
Matchles harvest of renown: Now is the
Time to serve our country well, to spread the
[...] our Sov'reign's name, and with a
[...] fl [...]me rush into battle.
Let glory warm our emulating hearts,
Like men in Britain's cause, to play our parts:
' [...] Mon [...]calm now, let us defiance roar,
And fate's untrodden path resolv'd explore:
And when the dre [...]d [...]u [...] conflict is begun,
Let each remember he's a Briton's son;
Each recoll [...]ct Great Britain's wholes [...]me laws,
Let each reflect he fights in freedom's caus [...];
Then glowing with the thoughts, we'll c [...]a [...]ge our foes;
Lighten like Jove, and deal our rivin [...] bl [...]ws.
[Scene c [...]ses, drums beat a short march on b [...]th sides then a point of war; a dischar [...]e of arti [...]lery and [...]ma [...]l arms, a shout of battle, and Indians yelling: Scene draws and discovers General Wolfe wounded [...]n the [...]; an Officer attending]
Officer.
You bleed, Sir.
Wolfe.
The ball graz'd my wrist.
Officer.
Shall a Surgeon be call'd to dress the wo [...]nd, Sir?
Wolfe.
Call no Surgeon to a woun [...] [...]o [...]ght as this.
[Taking out his han [...]kerchie [...], and w [...]apping it round his wrist]
We waste the precious moments! whi [...] all are
Upon the wing to honour! See, where the
[Page 66]Anstruthers and Caledonians, with a
Mutual emulaton, [...]ew thro' the thick
Obstructing ranks of Frenchmen; and as they
Li [...]t their burnish'd steel, they fling a transient
Gleam of terror round!
And see, where every other corps with
Bayonets fix'd▪ to close engagement throngs!
Let us my friend among'em speed, and in
Their front rush foremost to their goal of glory!
Exeunt, in haste.
[A shout of battle, Indians yelling.]
Scene draws. LEVI and a FRENCH OFFICER in disorder.
Levi.
The battle will be irretrievably
[...]st, without a sudden turn!
Gen'ral Montcalm, and others are wounded!
The wings give way! the main body is broke!
Officer.
The Indians faintly squall their horrid yell
Of onset! and in their thick abushment
Riveted agape, they gazing stand as
Thunderstruck!
Levi.
Heav'ns! that such a handful of men should work
So much confusion!
Run!
Rally the broken troops, and make them stand;
Whilst I head and spirit up the main corps,
'Till Bougainville's reinforcement arrives.
Exeunt severally, in haste.
[Montcalm brought in by two, his thighs wrapp'd up and bloody.]
Montcalm.
Each Englishman this day behaves, as if
He wore Medusa's head! with Gorgon frowns
They look some Frenchmen pale and stiff with horror!
Whilst with averted looks, others retreat
With a Mercurial speed!
1st. Soldier.
Where'er they face, our troops retreat;
Or else they pierce and hew a lane of caruage out.
2d. Soldier.
Our army dares as far as men can do:
But who can stand the charge of these
[Page 67]Impetuous Britons!
The day is the [...]s! Quebec must fall!
Montcalm.
And Canada is lost!—Alas my country▪
As the roaring thunder, on the rapid
Wings of keen lightn'ing, bursts resistless thro'
Th [...] sturdy oaken grove, scorches, and rives,
And lays its stubborn honours low, to the
Furious Britons break thro' our thickest c [...]ks!
And as a cold blight nips tender blossoms,
The fierce Wolfe blasts all the former honours
Of my life! he tears with greedy hand the
Fading laurels from my head! and [...]ises
Into glory, whilst in disgrace I set!
Bear me into Quebec.
Exeunt.
[Montcalm, as they go off. Canada shakes!—my country bleeds!—my honour's lost!]
Groans, ob—
Enter LEONATUS, supported by two soldiers, his [...]nd to his lu [...]gs.
Leonatus.
I'll fated bullet!—
In its rapid [...]light, I fear it pierc'd my
Lungs, and threatens painful dissolution.
If we gain the vict'ry, welcome death: my
Wound would plead with sanguin'd eloquence for fame▪
Looking back, as he looks back, a shout.
I must quit the field!
For tho' my spirit is resolv'd, yet the
Poignant torments, and expence of blood, roll
Cooling tremors to my heart, and weigh frail
Nature down.
Soildier.
Sir, as we pass'd the rear with you, I think
I saw General wolfe bearing of this
Way between [...]our.
Leonatus.
Cease the unwelcome tale!
That news pierc'd thro' my soul and from the [...]
Exhausted [...]ountain of my heart, roll'd a
Fresh purple stream of life!—yet still I'll hope.
Going off, and looking back.
[Page 68]Oh! Townshe [...]d!
What an harvest of immortal glory,
Wilt thou re
[...]p
[...]!
Exeunt.
[As they go of [...], [...] four soldiers, [...]earing General Wolfe▪ a [...] Officer attending]
Wolfe.
He [...]e let me [...]st awhile:—
M
[...] wou
[...]ds grow p
[...]inful.—
Speaking to the Officer.
Pray tell me▪ Sir, how g [...]s the bat [...]?
For hearing is the chiefest sense I've left:
A ch [...]l [...]d m [...] of gloom hang [...] o'er my sight,
And seems to wrap me in a wak [...]ng dream.
Officer.
Firm as a r [...]ck am di [...]ne billows plac'd,
Our little army s [...]a [...]ds the [...] charge
Of their ten thousand ve [...]' [...]an tro [...]ps!
And at an awful trembling distance held,
The savage yelling ba [...]ds, (wi [...]h horror struck)
Howl out their rage against the gallant Howe,
And his small corp [...] of infantry, yet dare
Not come within t [...]e fascination of
Their eyes, nor me [...] t [...]e piercing terrors of their frowns!
Wolfe.
Di [...]c [...]n you this for certain?
Mock me no [...] I [...] with vain delusive
Hopes in my last moment.—
Officer▪ clapping his hand to his breast.
Upon my honour, Sir, I discern it well.
Wolfe.
Now [...]te re [...]a [...]d thy speed;
Oh death inexo [...]able! stop! stop thy da [...]t!
Already levell'd at my breast! that my
G [...]d soul may take its flight, amidst the shouts
Of my victoriou
[...] countrymen!
Groans.
Officer.
Now fro [...]t to [...] they close and man to man
They [...] ▪ and urge the [...]e [...]ly arguments
Against each [...]thers to [...]asts! Pike [...], bayonets,
And h [...]b [...]rts meet and cl [...]sh together!
Others wi [...]h [...] c [...]ubb'd, engage,
And pound [...] opponents! and
All around the [...] deaths, in show'rs of
S [...]e [...] de [...]cend!
Wo [...]fe.
[Page 69]I'll lay me back, and rest awhile,
Perhaps it is cooling tr [...]m [...]r may wear off.
[...] (sitting for that purpose) [...] and lies as dead.
[...]
The [...] backward seems to move!
A [...] colour [...] seem!
Near the [...] pale [...]ag [...] out [...] red ensigns wave!
And in conj [...]nction mortal, sp [...]ad the plain!
They [...] [...]code! and [...]ur [...] a [...] swift advance!
Our [...]ngs and main corps boldly cross their lines!
They've beaten down the [...]rislamme of France!
A [...]d row they trample it in Gallic gore!
And like a rapid inundation, they
Mix promiscous with the hostile ranks.
R [...]pe [...]ing the impetuous torrent of
The foes, go [...]ging voracious death with whole
Platoons!—
Surely towards Quebec our forces rush!
And all their vet'ran thousand, quick retreat!
Oh now they scatter!—now they f [...]ee full speed!—
Victory!—Victory!—by heav'ns they run!
A shout of victory, and Indians yelling.
[Wolfe raising himself in haste.]
Who runs?—that sound recall'd me into life!—
Surely my scarlets Britons do not run!—
Now I'm well!—bear me into the battle!—
A [...]i [...]n the greatest [...]out there set me down!
My soldiers will not leave me!
The glorious tumult of the war, has charms
To [...]ay my stre [...]ing soul some short moments!
And the bright implements of death shall give
New day to my benighted eyes, and light
[...]e where to snatch at victory with my dying grasp!
Officer.
Your fears are needless, Sir:
For in a total rout the foe is fled:
Your sold [...]ers chace them headlong to their walls!
They [...]ll! run down! and take at pleasure! and
Never was victory more compleat!
Wol [...]e.
[Page 70]My g [...]or [...]'s race is run!—my county's serv'd!
Quebec is conq [...]r'd —Great G [...]orge is victor!—
I wish no mo
[...]e; and
[...]m comp
[...]ea
[...]ely sat
[...]sfy'd.
Dies.
S [...]e [...]e ch [...]n [...]es to LOND [...]N. SOPHR [...]NIA's House:
Enter S [...]PHRONIA, and a GENTLEMAN.
Gentleman.
Madam there's a report in town, Quebec
Is taken.
Sophronia.
How comes the news?
I might expect to have heard as soon as
Any: Heav'n grant all is well.—
Gent.
I hear there is an expres [...] arriv'd to
His Majesty.
Soph.
An express arriv'd!
[sighing]
and is it possible
My son can have forgotten me!—m [...] heart
Forbodes all is not well with him—
[sighing]
know you
The particulars?
[flutter' [...]]
Gent.
Madam, I could not obtain a knowledge
Of them.
Soph.
That was unkind indeed not to enquire;
The friendship that has so long time subsisted
Between you, and all the fond endearments
Of your youth together, methinks shou'd have
Prompted you to gain a recital from
The messenger, of all concern'd my son.
I shou'd have had a thousand fond queries,
And dwelt with rapture on his bravery,
List'ning with delight to the melodious
Tale of honour.
Gent.
Too much I know.
Aside.
To her.
I have enquir'd, but could not get the whole
Intelligence.
Sophronia aside.
His solemn looks, like to black gath'ring clouds
Preceding a thunder storm, seem to me
The dismal harbingers, to warn me of
Th' approaching storm of grief!
To him.
Learnt you any thing, Sir!
[eagerly.]
Oh! tell me, tell me!
[sighing]
Gent.
[Page 71]I learnt your son gave the Frenchmen battle
Before Quebec, in which he sev'ral wounds
Receiv'd, but still rush'd fearless onward to
The goal of glory, heaping new honours
Upon those already gain'd, and at length
Obtain'd the hard disputed victory:
The dubious conflict en [...]ed, Quebec fell
To the conquerors.
Soph.
Alas! there's more to follow;—and I fear
This great encomium on his valour,
Is like an opiate that's given to a
Patient, to lull him to repose; but when
The dormiant draught is evapourated,
And the gentle slumber wears away, he
Awakes in torments exquisite again.
Forgetting the short respite of his woe.
Wounded you said! and slain I fear—
[weeping]
cou'd be
Not write to me?
Gent.
His wrist was broken, Madam▪
Soph.
He had a tongue!—
[sighing]
His secretary then
He makes such vain evasions, surely my
My son is lost—
[weeping.]
To him.
Will you go in and stay dinner with us?
Let me know the wo [...], I beg Sir,—for this
Anxiety is insufferable!—
Exeunt.
SOPHIA sola, in SOPHRONIA's Parlour.
Enter to her a servant.
Madam, my mistress will wait on you immediately.
Exit.
Sophia sola.
A gloom hangs on the countenance of all
I meet here, and with a fatal presage
Fills my soul.—Be still my heart,—nor pine at
The decrees of fa [...]e: Now summon all thy
Resolution, to hear th' unwelcome tale,
From whence to date the aera of thy grief.
Enter SOPHRONIA.
Sophia.
Madam I took the liberty to wait
[Page 72]On you, in hopes of having the pleasure
To wi [...]h you joy of your good news from Quebec.
Soph.
I'm oblig'd [...]'ve M [...]dam, for this freindly
Visit.—but have no room to hope for joy.
[Sophia▪ aside]
Has she no room to hope for joy!—then what
Have I to fear!
[sighing]
To her.
Pray, Madam, what intelligence arriv'd?
Soph.
I have not seen the Gentleman who brought
Th' express, nor received a letter, but I
Have great reason to guess by what I've heard,
Cou'd the lofty sounding name of honour
Give a mournful parent any joy, from
The gallant expl [...]its of my son, perhaps
I might some pleasure feel, and boast he fell
A British Patriot.
Sophia.
Is he then sl [...]in!—Ah me!—
And was my happines [...] so fleeting!
Soph.
If your happiness, Madam▪ is center'd
In my son, fleeting it may be; for I
Fear he is no more.
[weeps.]
S [...]ph.
Then farewel all the goodly treasure of
Felicity, which my fond soul had in
Expectation hoarded up.—Oh how oft
In fancy had I been clasp'd within my
Hero's arms! and dwelt with vast pleasure on
His tales of danger; whilst my list'ning ears
Methought, were sweetly ravish'd with the loud
Exulting shouts of his glade countrymen,
And friends: to welcome him victorious to
His native shore!—But now sad reverse
Of fortune threatens me—
[weeps.]
Enter a GENTLEMAN, addressing SOPHRONIA.
Madam, here's a Gentleman Officer
Without, from Quebec, desires to speak with you.
Soph.
Be pleas'd, Sir, to introduce him.
Exit Gentl.
A palpa [...]a [...]ion seizes on my heart!
A cold tr [...]mor r [...]ns thro' ev'ry vein; the
[Page 73]Direful agitation both of soul and
Body, boarders on a fo [...]d delirium.
Oh what tender anguish! what racking woe,
Unspeakable, careful tim'rous mothers
Feel for their dear offspring! Children of their
Youth; and sweet pledges of connubial love!
Enter OFFICER and the GENTLEMAN.
Officer to Sophronia ▪
[hearing and looking serious]
Madam▪ I am from Quebec.
Soph.
So I learn, Sir▪—Is all well there?
eagerly,
Officer.
[as [...]]
She must know it.
To her.
Madam▪ your son is co [...]q'ror; he has gain'd.
Universal love, esteem, and never
Dying fame!
Sophia
[aside]
That welcome sound wou'd almost lift my soul
To heav'n, did not his gloomy countenance
Fill it with c [...]bious fears and clog its flight.
Soph
But does he live?—Shall I again in these
Fo [...]d arms infold the staff of my age; and
To my bosom press the darling of my
Soul; bedew his manly cheeks with tears of
Joy; and listen with a parent's pleasure,
Whilst be recounts his wounds, his dangers and
His b [...]ttles?—But oh! I tear such joy is
Not in s
[...]ore for me—
[weeps.]
Sophia.
aside, weeping
My sad soul can sympathize with her's in
Silent sorrow.
Gent.
I've this to add, before the battle clos'd,
Your son was wounded in the breas [...], and
Carried from the line.
Soph.
[weeping]
Too true my fears are come to pass: Go on.
Sir; for I am prepar'd to hear the worst.
Sophia.
[aside, weeping.]
My throbbing heart anticipates his tale.
Office [...].
[Page 74]The wound he then receiv'd was dangerous,
And your son is—
Soph.
[has [...]]
Oh, say not he i [...] dead!—
Officer.
Madam he is —and nati [...]n [...] mourn his fall.
[Sophronia faints, and a [...]ls into the arms of the Gentleman, who sets her in a [...], placed the [...]e for [...]h [...]t purpose. Sophia seeming [...]y regardless of the whole, and [...] in dumb sorrow.]
Gent.
Who waits there!
Enter a woman servant to assist.
Soph.
[ [...]ecovering after a short time]
Cruel generosity!
Oh! Why by your offi [...]ious ca [...]e have you
Awaken'd me from the sweet delusion?
My soul was on the wing into the world
Of spirits blest, to meet and hold in an
[...]ternal clasp, his much lov'd filia [...] sh [...]de.
Sophia.
The ball which took his l [...]fe, consign'd my heart
To woe.
Officer to Sophia.
To say you shou'd not grieve for such a loss,
Wou'd be to cha [...]ge all nature's order.
To Sophronia.
Not to sympathize with you, Madam, wou'd
Indicate a most unfeeling soul: Your
[...] wa [...] all a son [...] mother cou'd desire,
Or a tender virgin wi [...]h.—Yet in the
[...]ying v [...]ctor's fall, th [...]re's consolation.
Beyond the common rank of men his name
Shall live, and in Britannia's patriot
L [...]t, [...]ha [...]l sh [...]ne with a superior blaze: He
Nobly dy'd! And as he for his country
[...]ell, he left you [...]ull of honourable
Gri [...]f▪ array'd with solemn dignity of
Gl [...]rious woe.
[Turning to the audience.]
[Page 75]Shou'd France again Europe in broi's engage,
And dare to rouz [...] the dormant lion's rage;
Methinks I see your souls around me glow
With flame indignant, 'gainst [...]h' infidious foe!
Like sons of freedom to maintain your cause,
Nobly to save wives, children, I n [...]s and [...]aws,
To glory's goal what B [...]i [...]on wou'd not fly!
To fall like Wolfe, who wou'd not [...]ish to die!
Who wou'd not fight the treaty breaking G [...]ul▪
When George, and liberty, and martial honour call!