t more can we do?

_Custis_: You know.

_Lincoln_: Yes; but don't ask me for reprisals.

_Custis (gleaming)_: Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.

_Lincoln_: No, no. You must think. Think what you are saying.

_Custis_: I think of murdered black men.

_Lincoln_: You would not ask me to murder?

_Custis_: Punish--not murder.

_Lincoln_: Yes, murder. How can I kill men in cold blood for what has
been done by others? Think what would follow. It is for us to set a
great example, not to follow a wicked one. You do believe that, don't
you?

_Custis (after a pause)_: I know. Yes. Let your light so shine before
men. I trust Mista Lincoln. Will trust. I was wrong. I was too sorry
for my people.

_Lincoln_: Will you remember this? For more than two years I have
thought of you every day. I have grown a weary man with thinking. But
I shall not forget. I promise that.

_Custis_: You great, kind friend. I will love you.

_A knock at the door._

_Lincoln:_ Yes.

SUSAN _comes in_.

_Susan_: An officer gentleman. He says it's very important.

_Lincoln_: I'll come.

_He and_ CUSTIS _rise_.

Wait, will you, Mr. Custis? I want to ask you some questions.

_He goes out. It is getting dark, and_ SUSAN _lights a lamp and draws
the curtains_. CUSTIS _stands by the door looking after_ LINCOLN.

_Custis_: He very good man.

_Susan_: You've found that out, have you?

_Custis_: Do you love him, you white girl?

_Susan_: Of course I do.

_Custis_: Yes, you must.

_Susan_: He's a real white man. No offence, of course.

_Custis_: Not offend. He talk to me as if black no difference.

_Susan_: But I tell you what, Mr. Custis. He'll kill himself over this
war, his heart's that kind--like a shorn lamb, as they say.

_Custis_: Very unhappy war.

_Susan_: But I suppose he's right. It's got to go on till it's
settled.

_In the street below a body of people is heard approaching, singing
"John Brown's Body_" CUSTIS _and_ SUSAN _stand listening_, SUSAN
_joining in the song as it passes and fades away._

THE CURTAIN FALLS.

_First Chronicler_: Unchanged our time. And further yet
In loneliness must be the way,
And difficult and deep the debt
Of constancy to pay.

_Second Chronicler_: And one denies,
and one forsakes.
And still unquestioning he goes,
Who has his lonely thoughts, and makes.
A world of those.

_The two together_: When the high heart we magnify,
And the sure vision celebrate,
And worship greatness pa