The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Iv Part 92

_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?

[Clas.h.i.+ng 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 b.l.o.o.d.y.

_Bac._ 'Tis just, ye G.o.ds! 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 s.h.i.+ft.

[Undoes the Pomel of his Sword.

Come, my good Poison, like that of _Hannibal_; long I have born a n.o.ble 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 Ca.s.sius_, 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 n.o.bler; 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--