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The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Iv Part 89

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_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 p.r.i.c.k them on--if they offer to turn back, run them thro.

_Tim._ Oh, horrid-- [The Soldiers p.r.i.c.k them on with their Swords.

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

_Haz._ Will you advance, Sir? [p.r.i.c.ks _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 b.l.o.o.d.y.

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 Pa.s.sion for?

_Friend._ Yes, on a n.o.bler 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 Pa.s.s-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.

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The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Iv Part 89 summary

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