Chapter XXIII: Act V

SCENE I. The _Sevana_ in sight of the Camp; the Moon rises.

Enter _Friendly_, _Hazard_ and _Boozer_, and a Party of Men.

_Friend._ We are now in sight of the Tents.

_Booz._ Is not this a rash Attempt, Gentlemen, with so small Force to set upon _Bacon’s_ whole Army?

_Haz._ Oh, they are drunk with Victory and Wine; there will be nought but revelling to night.

_Friend._ Would we could learn in what Quarter the Ladies are lodg’d, for we have no other business but to release them--But hark--who comes here?

_Booz._ Some Scouts, I fear, from the Enemy.

Enter _Dull._ _Tim._ _Whim._ and _Whiff_, creeping as in the dark.

_Friend._ Let’s shelter ourselves behind yonder Trees--lest we be surpriz’d.

_Tim._ Wou’d I were well at home-Gad zoors, if e’er you catch me a Cadeeing again, I’ll be content to be set in the fore-front of the Battle for Hawks-Meat.

_Whim._ Thou’rt afraid of every Bush.

_Tim._ Ay, and good reason too: Gad zoors, there may be Rogues hid--prithee, Major, do thou advance.

_Dull._ No, no, go on--no matter of Ceremony in these cases of running away. [They advance.

_Friend._ They approach directly to us, we cannot escape them--their numbers are not great--let us advance. [They come up to them.

_Tim._ Oh! I am annihilated.

_Whiff._ Some of _Frightall’s_ Scouts, we are lost Men.
[They push each other foremost.

_Friend._ Who goes there?

_Whim._ Oh, they’ll give us no Quarter; ‘twas long of you, Cornet, that we ran away from our Colours.

_Tim._ Me--’twas the Major’s Ambition here--to make himself a great Man with the Council again.

_Dull._ Pox o’ this Ambition, it has been the ruin of many a gallant Fellow.

_Whiff._ If I get home again, the height of mine shall be to top Tobacco; would I’d some Brandy.

_Tim._ Gads zoors, would we had, ‘tis the best Armour against Fear--hum--I hear no body now--prithee advance a little.

_Whim._ What, before a Horse-Officer?

_Friend._ Stand, on your Lives--

_Tim._ Oh, ‘tis impossible--I’m dead already.

_Friend._ What are ye?--speak--or I’ll shoot.

_Whim._ Friends to thee,--who the Devil are we Friends to?

_Tim._ E’en who please you, Gad zoors.

_Friend._ Hah--Gad zoors--who’s there, _Timorous_?

_Tim._ Hum--I know no such Scoundrel-- [Gets behind.

_Dull._ Hah--that’s _Friendly’s_ Voice.

_Friend._ Right--thine’s that of _Dullman_--who’s with you?

_Dull._ Only _Timorous_, _Whimsey_ and _Whiff_, all valiantly running away from the Arch-Rebel that took us Prisoners.

_Haz._ Can you inform us where the Ladies are lodg’d?

_Dull._ In the hither Quarter, in _Daring’s_ Tent; you’ll know them by Lanthorns on every corner--there was never better time to surprize them--for this day _Daring’s_ married, and there’s nothing but Dancing and Drinking.

_Haz._ Married! to whom?

_Dull._ That I ne’er enquir’d.

_Friend._ ‘Tis to _Chrisante_, Friend--and the Reward of my Attempt is lost. Oh, I am mad, I’ll fight away my Life, and my Despair shall yet do greater Wonders, than even my Love could animate me to. Let’s part our Men, and beset his Tents on both sides. [_Friendly_ goes out with a Party.

_Haz._ Come, Gentlemen, let’s on--

_Whiff._ On, Sir,--we on, Sir?--

_Haz._ Ay, you on, Sir--to redeem the Ladies.

_Whiff._ Oh, Sir, I am going home for Money to redeem my _Nancy_.

_Whim._ So am I, Sir.

_Tim._ I thank my Stars I am a Batchelor.--Why, what a Plague is a Wife?

_Haz._ Will you march forward?

_Dull._ We have atchiev’d Honour enough already, in having made our Campaign here-- [Looking big.

_Haz._ ‘Sdeath, but you shall go--put them in the front, and prick them on--if they offer to turn back, run them thro.

_Tim._ Oh, horrid-- [The Soldiers prick them on with their Swords.

_Whiff._ Oh, _Nancy_, thy Dream will yet come to pass.

_Haz._ Will you advance, Sir? [Pricks _Whiff_.

_Whiff._ Why, so we do, Sir; the Devil’s in these fighting Fellows.

[Exeunt.

An Alarm at a distance.

_Within._ To Arms, to Arms, the Enemy’s upon us.

[A Noise of Fighting, after which enters _Friendly_ with his
Party, retreating and fighting from _Daring_ and some Soldiers,
_Ranter_ fighting like a Fury by his side, he putting her back in
vain; they fight out. Re-enter _Daring_ and _Friendly_ all bloody.
Several Soldiers enter with Flambeaux.

_Dar._ Now, Sir--what Injury have I ever done you, that you should use this Treachery against me?

_Friend._ To take advantage any way in War, was never counted Treachery--and had I murder’d thee, I had not paid thee half the Debt I owe thee.

_Dar._ You bleed too much to hold too long a Parley-- come to my Tent, I’ll take a charitable care of thee.

_Friend._ I scorn thy Courtesy, who against all the Laws of Honour and of Justice, hast ravish’d innocent Ladies.

_Dar._ Sir, your upbraiding of my Honour shall never make me forfeit it, or esteem you less--Is there a Lady here you have a Passion for?

_Friend._ Yes, on a nobler score than thou darest own.

_Dar._ To let you see how you’re mistaken, Sir, whoe’er that Lady be whom you affect, I will resign, and give you both your Freedoms.

_Friend._ Why, for this Courtesy, which shews thee brave, in the next fight I’ll save thy Life to quit the Obligation.

_Dar._ I thank you, Sir;--come to my Tent,--and when we’ve dress’d your Wounds, and yielded up the Ladies, I’ll give you my Pass-port for your Safe-Conduct back, and tell your Friends i’th’ Town, we’ll visit them i’th’ Morning.

_Friend._ They’ll meet you on your way, Sir--

_Dar._ Come, my young Soldier, now thou’st won my Soul.

[Exeunt.

[An Alarm beats: Enter at another Passage _Boozer_ with all the
Ladies; they pass over the Stage, while _Hazard_ and _Downright_
beat back a Party of Soldiers. _Dull._ _Tim._ _Whim._ and _Whiff_,
prick’d on by their Party to fight, lay about them like Madmen.
_Bacon_, _Fearless_ and _Daring_ come in, rescue their Men, and
fight out the other Party, some falling dead. _Bacon_, _Fearless_
and _Daring_ return tired, with their Swords drawn. Enter
_Soldier_ running.

_Sold._ Return, Sir, where your Sword will be more useful--a Party of _Indians_, taking advantage of the Night, have set fire on your Tents, and borne away the Queen.

_Bac._ Hah, the Queen! By Heaven, this Victory shall cost them dear; come, let us fly to rescue her.

[All go out.

SCENE II. Changes to _Wellman’s_ Tent.

Enter _Wellman_, _Brag_, _Grubb_, and Officers.

_Well._ I cannot sleep, my Impatience is so great to engage this haughty Enemy, before they have reposed their weary Limbs--Is not yon ruddy Light the Morning’s dawn?

_Brag._ ‘Tis, and please your Honour.

_Well._ Is there no News of _Friendly_ yet, and _Hazard_?

_Brag._ Not yet--’tis thought they left the Camp to night, with some design against the Enemy.

_Well._ What Men have they?

_Brag._ Only _Boozer’s_ Party, Sir.

_Well._ I know they are brave, and mean to surprize me with some handsome Action.

Enter _Friendly_.

_Friend._ I ask a thousand Pardons, Sir, for quitting the Camp without your leave.

_Well._ Your conduct and your Courage cannot err; I see thou’st been in action by thy Blood.

_Friend._ Sir, I’m ashamed to own these slender Wounds, since without more my luck was to be taken, while _Hazard_ did alone effect the Business, the rescuing of the Ladies.

_Well._ How got ye Liberty?

_Friend._ By _Daring’s_ Generosity, who sends ye word he’ll visit you this Morning.

_Well._ We are prepared to meet him.

Enter _Down._ _Hazard_, _Ladies_, _Whim._ _Whiff_, _Dullman_,
_Tim._ looking big. _Well._ embraces _Down._

_Well._ My worthy Friend, how am I joyed to see you?

_Down._ We owe our Liberties to these brave Youths, who can do Wonders when they fight for Ladies.

_Tim._ With our assistance, Ladies.

_Whim._ For my part I’ll not take it as I have done; Gad, I find, when I am damnable angry, I can beat both Friend and Foe.

_Whiff._ When I fight for my _Nancy_ here--adsfish, I’m a Dragon.

Mrs. _Whiff._ Lord, you need not have been so hasty.

_Friend._ Do not upbraid me with your Eyes, _Chrisante_; but let these Wounds assure you I endeavour’d to serve you, though _Hazard_ had the Honour on’t.

_Well._ But, Ladies, we’ll not expose you in the Camp,--a Party of our Men shall see you safely conducted to Madam _Surelove’s_; ‘tis but a little Mile from our Camp.

_Friend._ Let me have that honour, Sir.

_Chris._ No, I conjure you let your Wounds be dress’d; obey me if you love me, and _Hazard_ shall conduct us home.

_Well._ He had the Toil, ‘tis fit he have the Recompence.

_Whiff._ He the Toil, Sir! what, did we stand for Cyphers?

_Whim._ The very appearance I made in the front of the Battel, aw’d the Enemy.

_Tim._ Ay, ay, let the Enemy say how I maul’d ‘em--but Gads zoors, I scorn to brag.

_Well._ Since you’ve regain’d your Honour so gloriously, I restore you to your Commands you lost by your seeming Cowardice.

_Dull._ Valour is not always in humour, Sir.

_Well._ Come, Gentlemen, since they’ve resolv’d to engage us, let’s set our Men in order to receive ‘em.

[Exeunt all but the four Justices.

_Tim._ Our Commissions again--you must be bragging, and see what comes on’t; I was modest ye see, and said nothing of my Prowess.

_Whiff._ What a Devil does the Colonel think we are made of Iron, continually to be beat on the Anvil?

_Whim._ Look, Gentlemen, here’s two Evils--if we go we are dead Men; if we stay we are hang’d--and that will disorder my Cravat-string:--therefore the least Evil is to go--and set a good Face on the Matter, as I do--

[Goes out singing. All exeunt.

SCENE III. A thick Wood.

Enter _Queen_ dress’d like an _Indian_ Man, with a Bow in her
Hand, and Quiver at her Back; _Anaria_ her Confident disguis’d so
too; and about a dozen _Indians_ led by _Cavaro_.

_Queen._ I tremble yet, dost think we’re safe, _Cavaro_?

_Cav._ Madam, these Woods are intricate and vast, and ‘twill be difficult to find us out--or if they do, this Habit will secure you from the fear of being taken.

_Queen._ Dost think if _Bacon_ find us, he will not know me? Alas, my Fears and Blushes will betray me.

_Ana._ ‘Tis certain, Madam, if we stay we perish; for all the Wood’s surrounded by the Conqueror.

_Queen._ Alas, ‘tis better we should perish here, than stay to expect the Violence of his Passion, to which my Heart’s too sensibly inclin’d.

_Ana._ Why do you not obey its Dictates then? why do you fly the Conqueror?

_Queen._ Not fly--not fly the Murderer of my Lord?

_Ana._ What World, what Resolution can preserve you? and what he cannot gain by soft submission, Force will at last o’ercome.

_Queen._ I wish there were in Nature one excuse, either by Force or Reason to compel me:--For Oh, _Anaria_--I adore this General;--take from my Soul a Truth--till now conceal’d--at twelve Years old--at the _Pauwomungian_ Court, I saw this Conqueror. I saw him young and gay as new-born Spring, glorious and charming as the Mid-day’s Sun; I watch’d his Looks, and listned when he spoke, and thought him more than mortal.

_Ana._ He has a graceful Form.

_Queen._ At last a fatal Match concluded was between my Lord and me; I gave my Hand, but oh, how far my Heart was from consenting, the angry Gods are Witness.

_Ana._ ‘Twas pity.

_Queen._ Twelve tedious Moons I pass’d in silent Languishment; Honour endeavouring to destroy my Love, but all in vain; for still my Pain return’d whenever I beheld my Conqueror; but now when I consider him as Murderer of my Lord-- [Fiercely.] I sigh and wish--some other fatal Hand had given him his Death.--But now there’s a necessity, I must be brave and overcome my Heart; What if I do? ah, whither shall I fly? I have no _Amazonian_ Fire about me, all my Artillery is Sighs and Tears, the Earth my Bed, and Heaven my Canopy. [Weeps. [After Noise of Fighting. Hah, we are surpriz’d; Oh, whither shall I fly? And yet methinks a certain trembling Joy, spite of my Soul, spite of my boasted Honour, runs shivering round my Heart.

Enter an _Indian_.

_Ind._ Madam, your Out-guards are surpriz’d by _Bacon_, who hews down all before him, and demands the Queen with such a Voice, and Eyes so fierce and angry, he kills us with his Looks.

_Cav._ Draw up your poison’d Arrows to the head, and aim them at his Heart, sure some will hit.

_Queen._ Cruel _Cavaro_,--wou’d ‘twere fit for me to contradict thy Justice. [Aside.

_Bac._ [Within.] The Queen, ye Slaves, give me the Queen, and live!

He enters furiously, beating back some _Indians_; _Cavaro’s_ Party
going to shoot, the _Queen_ runs in.

_Queen._ Hold, hold, I do command ye.
[_Bacon_ flies on ‘em as they shoot and miss him, fights like a
Fury, and wounds the _Queen_ in the Disorder; beats them all out.
--hold thy commanding Hand, and do not kill me, who wou’d not hurt
thee to regain my Kingdom--
[He snatches her in his Arms, she reels.

_Bac._ Hah--a Woman’s Voice,--what art thou? Oh my Fears!

_Queen._ Thy Hand has been too cruel to a Heart--whose Crime was only tender Thoughts for thee.

_Bac._ The Queen! What is’t my sacrilegious Hand has done!

_Queen._ The noblest Office of a gallant Friend, thou’st sav’d my Honour, and hast given me Death.

_Bac._ Is’t possible! ye unregarding Gods, is’t possible?

_Queen._ Now I may love you without Infamy, and please my dying Heart by gazing on you.

_Bac._ Oh, I am lost--for ever lost--I find my Brain turn with the wild confusion.

_Queen._ I faint--oh, lay me gently on the Earth. [Lays her down.

_Bac._ Who waits-- [Turns in Rage to his Men.
Make of the Trophies of the War a Pile, and set it all on fire, that I
may leap into consuming Flames--while all my Tents are burning round
about me.
[Wildly.
Oh thou dear Prize, for which alone I toil’d!
[Weeps, and lies down by her.

Enter _Fearless_ with his Sword drawn.

_Fear._ Hah, on the Earth--how do you, Sir?

_Bac._ What wou’dst thou?

_Fear._ _Wellman_ with all the Forces he can gather, attacks us even in our very Camp; assist us, Sir, or all is lost.

_Bac._ Why, prithee let him make the World his Prize, I have no business with the Trifle now; it contains nothing that’s worth my care, since my fair Queen--is dead--and by my hand.

_Queen._ So charming and obliging is thy Moan, that I cou’d wish for Life to recompense it; but oh, Death falls--all cold upon my Heart, like Mildews on the Blossoms.

_Fear._ By Heaven, Sir, this Love will ruin all--rise, rise, and save us yet.

_Bac._ Leave me, what e’er becomes of me--lose not thy share of Glory--prithee leave me.

_Queen._ Alas, I fear thy Fate is drawing on, and I shall shortly meet thee in the Clouds; till then--farewel--even Death is pleasing to me, while thus--I find it in thy Arms-- [Dies.

_Bac._ There ends my Race of Glory and of Life.
[An Alarm at distance--continues a while.

_Bac._ Hah--Why should I idly whine away my Life, since there are nobler ways to meet with Death? Up, up, and face him then--Hark--there’s the Soldier’s Knell--and all the Joys of Life--with thee I bid farewel-- [Goes out. The _Indians_ bear off the Body of the _Queen_.

The Alarm continues: Enter _Downright_, _Wellman_, and others,
Swords drawn.

_Well._ They fight like Men possest--I did not think to have found them so prepar’d.

_Down._ They’ve good Intelligence--but where’s the Rebel?

_Well._ Sure he’s not in the Fight; Oh, that it were my happy chance to meet him, that while our Men look on, we might dispatch the business of the War--Come, let’s fall in again, now we have taken breath. [They go out.

Enter _Daring_ and _Fearless_ hastily, with their Swords drawn;
meet _Whim._ _Whiff_, with their Swords drawn, running away.

_Dar._ How now, whither away? [In anger.

_Whim._ Hah, _Daring_ here--we are pursuing of the Enemy, Sir; stop us not in the pursuit of Glory. [Offers to go.

_Dar._ Stay!--I have not seen you in my Ranks to day.

_Whiff._ Lord, does your Honour take us for Starters?

_Fear._ Yes, Sirrah, and believe you are now rubbing off--confess, or I’ll run you through.

_Whiff._ Oh, mercy, Sir, mercy, we’ll confess.

_Whim._ What will you confess? we were only going behind yon Hedge to untruss a point; that’s all.

_Whiff._ Ay, your Honours will smell out the truth, if you keep us here long.

_Dar._ Here, carry them Prisoners to my Tent.

[Ex. Soldiers with _Whim._ and _Whiff_.

Enter _Ranter_ without a Hat, and Sword drawn, _Daring_ angrily
goes the other way.

_Ran._ A pox of all ill luck, how came I to lose _Daring_ in the fight? Ha--who’s here? _Dullman_ and _Timorous_ dead--the Rogues are Counterfeits.--I’ll see what Moveables they have about them, all’s lawful Prize in War. [Takes their Money, Watches and Rings; goes out.

_Tim._ What, rob the dead?--why, what will this villanous World come to?
[Clashing of Swords, just as they were going to rise.

Enter _Hazard_ bringing in _Ranter_.

_Haz._ Thou cou’dst expect no other Fate, young Man; thy Hands are yet too tender for a Sword.

_Ran._ Thou look’st like a good-natur’d Fellow, use me civilly, and _Daring_ shall ransom me.

_Haz._ Doubt not a generous Treatment. [They go out.

_Dull._ So the Coast is clear, I desire to move my Quarters to some place of more safety-- [They rise and go off.

Enter _Wellman_ and Soldiers hastily.

_Well._ ‘Twas this way _Bacon_ fled. Five hundred Pound for him who finds the Rebel.

[Go out.

SCENE IV. Changes to another part of the Wood.

Enter _Bacon_ and _Fearless_ with their Swords drawn, all bloody.

_Bac._ ‘Tis just, ye Gods! that when ye took the Prize for which I fought, Fortune and you should all abandon me.

_Fear._ Oh, fly, Sir, to some place of safe retreat, for there’s no mercy to be hop’d if taken. What will you do? I know we are pursu’d, by Heaven, I will not die a shameful Death.

_Bac._ Oh, they’ll have pity on thy Youth and Bravery, but I’m above their Pardon. [A noise is heard.

_Within._ This way--this way--hay halloo.

_Fear._ Alas, Sir, we’re undone--I’ll see which way they take.
[Exit.

_Bac._ So near! Nay, then to my last shift.
[Undoes the Pomel of his Sword.
Come, my good Poison, like that of _Hannibal_; long I have born a
noble Remedy for all the Ills of Life.
[Takes Poison.
I have too long surviv’d my Queen and Glory, those two bright Stars
that influenc’d my Life are set to all Eternity.
[Lies down.

Enter _Fearless_, runs to _Bacon_, and looks on his Sword.

_Fear._ --Hah--what have ye done?

_Bac._ Secur’d my self from being a publick Spectacle upon the common Theatre of Death.

Enter _Daring_ and Soldiers.

_Dar._ Victory, Victory! they fly, they fly, where’s the victorious General?

_Fear._ Here,--taking his last Adieu.

_Dar._ Dying! Then wither all the Laurels on my Brows, for I shall never triumph more in War; where are the Wounds?

_Fear._ From his own Hand, by what he carried here, believing we had lost the Victory.

_Bac._ And is the Enemy put to flight, my Hero? [Grasps his Neck.

_Dar._ All routed Horse and Foot; I plac’d an Ambush, and while they were pursuing you, my Men fell on behind, and won the day.

_Bac._ Thou almost makest me wish to live again, if I cou’d live now fair _Semernia’s_ dead.--But oh--the baneful Drug is just and kind, and hastens me away--Now while you are Victors, make a Peace--with the _English_ Council, and never let Ambition,--Love,--or Interest, make you forget, as I have done, your Duty and Allegiance--Farewel--a long Farewel-- [Dies embracing their Necks.

_Dar._ So fell the _Roman Cassius_, by mistake--

Enter Soldiers with _Dunce_, _Tim._ and _Dullman_.

_Sold._ An’t please your Honour, we took these Men running away.

_Dar._ Let ‘em loose--the Wars are at an end, see where the General lies--that great-soul’d Man, no private Body e’er contain’d a nobler; and he that cou’d have conquered all _America_, finds only here his scanty length of Earth. Go, bear the Body to his own Pavilion-- [Soldiers go out with the Body. though we are Conquerors we submit to treat, and yield upon Condition: You, Mr. _Dunce_, shall bear our Articles to the Council.

_Dun._ With Joy I will obey you.

_Tim._ Good General, let us be put in the Agreement.

_Dar._ You shall be obliged--

[Ex. _Dar._ _Dun._ _Dull._ and _Tim._ as _Fear._ goes out a
Soldier meets him.

_Sold._ What does your Honour intend to do with _Whimsey_ and _Whiff_, who are condemn’d by a Council of War?

Enter _Daring_, _Dullman_, _Tim._ _Fearless_, and Officers.

_Dar._ You come too late, Gentlemen, to be put into the Articles; nor am I satisfy’d you’re worthy of it.

_Dull._ Why, did not you, Sir, see us lie dead in the Field?

_Dar._ Yes, but I see no Wound about you.

_Tim._ We were stun’d with being knock’d down; Gads zoors, a Man may be kill’d with the but-end of a Musquet, as soon as with the point of a Sword.

Enter _Dunce_.

_Dun._ The Council, Sir, wishes you Health and Happiness, and sends you these sign’d by their Hands-- [Gives Papers.

_Dar._ reads.

That you shall have a general Pardon for your self and Friends;
that you shall have all new Commissions, and _Daring_ to command as
General; that you shall have free leave to inter your dead General
in _James_ Town. And to ratify this, we will meet you at Madam
_Surelove’s_ House, which stands between the Armies, attended only
by our Officers.

The Council’s noble, and I’ll wait upon them.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. A Grove near Madam _Surelove’s_.

Enter _Surelove_ weeping, _Well._ _Chrisante_, Mrs. _Flirt_,
_Ranter_ as before, _Down._ _Haz._ _Friend._ _Booz._ _Brag_.

_Well._ How long, Madam, have you heard the News of Col. _Surelove’s_ Death?

_Sure._ By a Vessel last Night arriv’d.

_Well._ You shou’d not grieve when Men so old pay their debt to Nature; you are too fair not to have been reserved for some young Lover’s Arms.

_Haz._ I dare not speak,--but give me leave to hope.

_Sure._ The way to oblige me to’t, is never more to speak to me of Love till I shall think it fit-- [_Wellman_ speaks to _Down._

_Well._ Come, you shan’t grant it--’tis a hopeful Youth.

_Down._ You are too much my Friend to be denied--_Chrisante_, do you love _Friendly_? nay, do not blush--till you have done a fault, your loving him is none--Here, take her, young Man, and with her all my Fortune--when I am dead, Sirrah--not a Groat before--unless to buy ye Baby-Clouts.

_Friend._ He merits not this Treasure, Sir, can wish for more.

Enter _Daring_, _Fearless_, _Dunce_, Officers, and the rest, they
meet _Well._ and _Down._ who embrace ‘em. _Dull._ and _Tim._
stand.

_Dar._ Can you forgive us, Sir, our Disobedience?

_Well._ Your offering Peace while yet you might command it, has made such kind impressions on us, that now you may command your Propositions; your Pardons are all seal’d and new Commissions.

_Dar._ I’m not ambitious of that Honour, Sir, but in obedience will accept your Goodness; but, Sir, I hear I have a young Friend taken Prisoner by Captain _Hazard_, whom I intreat you will render me.

_Haz._ Sir--here I resign him to you. [Gives him _Ran._

_Ran._ Faith, General, you left me but scurvily in Battle.

_Dar._ That was to see how well you cou’d shift for your self; now I find you can bear the brunt of a Campaign, you are a fit Wife for a Soldier.

_All._ A Woman--_Ranter_--

_Haz._ Faith, Madam, I should have given you kinder Quarter, if I had known my happiness.

_Flirt._ I have an humble Petition to you, Sir.

_Sure._ In which we all join.

_Flirt._ An’t please you, Sir, Mr. _Dunce_ has long made Love to me, and on promise of Marriage has-- [Simpers.

_Down._ What has he, Mistress? What has he, Mrs. _Flirt_?

_Flirt._ Only been a little familiar with my Person, Sir--

_Well._ Do you hear, Parson--you must marry Mrs. _Flirt_.

_Dun._ How, Sir, a Man of my Coat, Sir, marry a Brandy-monger?

_Well._ Of your Calling you mean, a Farrier and no Parson--
[Aside to him.
She’ll leave her Trade, and spark it above all the Ladies at Church:
No more--take her, and make her honest.

Enter _Whim._ and _Whiff_ stript.

_Chris._ Bless me, what have we here?

_Whim._ Why, an’t like your Honours, we were taken by the Enemy--hah, _Daring_ here, and _Fearless_?

_Fear._ How now, Gentlemen, were not you two condemn’d to be shot for running from your Colours.

_Down._ From your Colours!

_Fear._ Yes, Sir, they were both listed in my Regiment.

_Down._ Then we must hang them for deserting us.

_Whim._ So, out of the Frying Pan--you know where, Brother--

_Whiff._ Ay, he that’s born to be hang’d--you know the rest; a Pox of these Proverbs.

_Well._ I know ye well--you’re all rank Cowards; but once more we forgive ye; your Places in the Council shall be supplied by these Gentlemen of Sense and Honour. The Governor when he comes, shall find the Country in better hands than he expects to find it.

_Whim._ A very fair Discharge.

_Whiff._ I’m glad ‘tis no worse, I’ll home to my _Nancy_.

_Dull._ Have we expos’d our Lives and Fortunes for this?

_Tim._ Gad zoors, I never thriv’d since I was a Statesman, left Planting, and fell to promising and lying; I’ll to my old Trade again, bask under the shade of my own Tobacco, and drink my Punch in Peace.

_Well._ _Come, my brave Youths, let all our Forces meet,
To make this Country happy, rich and great;
Let scanted _Europe_ see that we enjoy
Safer Repose, and larger Worlds, than they._