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Act IV, Scene 1
Macbush seated at his desk. TV camera crews are filming
him. An aide adjusts his tie.
MACBUSH: Dictator of Iraq!
The mercy that was quick within us but late
By your own dilatory tactics is suppressed.
Therefore, take pity of your nation and your people
Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command.
If not, why then in forty-eight hours look to see
The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand
Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters,
Your fathers taken by their silver beards
And their most reverend heads dashed to the walls.
For America's spirit, ranging for revenge,
With England by his side come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
Cry "Havoc!" and let slip the dogs of war.
What say you? Will you yield and this avoid?
Or guilty in defense, be thus destroyed?
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