The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Iv Part 78

_Down._ What, Men of Authority dispute with Rake-h.e.l.ls! 'tis below us, Sir.

_Tim._ To stake our Lives and Fortunes against their nothing.

Enter _Bacon_, after him the Rabble with Staves and Clubs, bringing in _Whim._ and _Whiff_ bound.

_Well._ What means this Insolence?--What, Mr. _Bacon_, do you come in Arms?

_Bac._ I'd need, Sir, come in Arms, when Men that should be honourable can have so poor Designs to take my Life.

_Well._ Thrust out his following Rabble.

_1st Rab._ We'll not stir till we have the General safe back again.

_Bac._ Let not your Loves be too officious--but retire--

_1st Rab._ At your Command we vanish.-- [The Rabble retire.

_Bac._ I hope you'll pardon me, if in my own defence I seized on these two Murderers.

_Down._ You did well, Sir, 'twas by no order they acted--stand forth and hear your Sentence--in time of War we need no formal Tryals to hang Knaves that act without order.

_Whiff._ Oh, Mercy, Mercy, Colonel--'twas Parson _Dunce's_ Plot.

_Down._ Issue out a Warrant to seize _Dunce_ immediately--you shall be carry'd to the Fort to pray.

_Whim._ Oh, good your Honour, I never pray'd in all my Life.

_Down._ From thence drawn upon a Sledge to the place of Execution--where you shall hang till you are dead--and then be cut down and--

_Whim._ Oh, hold--hold--we shall never be able to endure half this.

[Kneeling.

_Well._ I think the Offence needs not so great Punishment; their Crime, Sir, is but equal to your own, acting without Commission.

_Bac._ 'Tis very well explained, Sir,--had I been murder'd by Commission then, the Deed had been approved, and now perhaps I am beholding to the Rabble for my Life.

_Well._ A fine Pretence to hide a popular Fault, but for this once we pardon them and you.

_Bac._ Pardon! for what? by Heaven, I scorn your Pardon, I've not offended Honour nor Religion.

_Well._ You have offended both in taking Arms.

_Bac._ Should I stand by and see my Country ruin'd, my King dishonour'd, and his Subjects murder'd, hear the sad Crys of Widows and of Orphans?

you heard it loud, but gave no pitying care to't, and till the War and Ma.s.sacre was brought to my own door, my Flocks and Herds surprized, I bore it all with Patience. Is it unlawful to defend my self against a Thief that breaks into my Doors?

_Well._ And call you this defending of your self?

_Bac._ I call it doing of my self that right, which upon just demand the Council did refuse me; if my Ambition, as you're pleased to call it, made me demand too much, I left my self to you.

_Well._ Perhaps we thought it did.

_Bac._ Sir, you affront my Birth--I am a Gentleman, and yet my Thoughts were humble--I would have fought under the meanest of your Parasites.

_Tim._ There's a Bob for us, Brother. [To _Dull._

_Bac._ But still you put me off with Promises--and when compell'd to stir in my Defence I call'd none to my aid, and those that came, 'twas their own Wrongs that urg'd them.

_Down._ 'Tis fear'd, Sir, under this Pretence, you aim at Government.

_Bac._ I scorn to answer to so base an Accusation; the height of my Ambition is to be an honest Subject.

_Well._ An honest Rebel, Sir--

_Bac._ You know you wrong me, and 'tis basely urg'd--but this is trifling--here are my Commissions.

[Throws down Papers, _Down._ reads.

_Down._ To be General of the Forces against the _Indians_, and blank Commissions for his Friends.

_Well._ Tear them in pieces--are we to be imposed upon? Do ye come in hostile manner to compel us?

_Down._ Be not too rough, Sir, let us argue with him.

_Well._ I am resolv'd I will not.

_Tim._ Then we are all dead Men, Gudzoors! he will not give us time to say our Prayers.

_Well._ We every day expect fresh force from _England_, till then, we of our selves shall be sufficient to make defence against a st.u.r.dy Traitor.

_Bac._ Traitor! S'death, Traitor--I defy ye, but that my Honour's yet above my Anger, I'd make you answer me that Traitor dearly.

[Rises.

_Well._ Hah--am I threatned--Guards, secure the Rebel.

[Guards seize him.

_Bac._ Is this your honourable Invitation? Go--triumph in your short-liv'd Victory, the next turn shall be mine.

[Exeunt Guards with _Bac._

_A Noise of Fighting--Enter _Bacon_, _Wellman's_ Guards beat back by the Rabble, _Bacon_ s.n.a.t.c.hes a Sword from one, and keeps back the Rabble, _Tim._ gets under the Table._

_Down._ What means this Insolence?

_Rab._ We'll have our General, and knock that Fellow's Brains out, and hang up Colonel _Wellman_.

_All._ Ay, ay, hang up _Wellman_.

[The Rabble seize _Well._ and _Dull._ and the rest.

_Dull._ Hold, hold, Gentlemen, I was always for the General.