_Whim._ Why, Brother _Whiff_, you were for making him a General but now.
_Whiff._ The Counsels of wise States-men, Brother _Whimsey_, must change as Causes do, d'ye see.
_Dun._ Your Honours are in the right; and whatever those two leading Counsellors say, they would be glad if _Bacon_ were dispatch'd: but the punctilio of Honour is such a thing.
_Whim._ Honour, a Pox on't; what is that Honour that keeps such a bustle in the World, yet never did good as I heard of?
_Dun._ Why, 'tis a foolish word only, taken up by great Men, but rarely practis'd.--But if you wou'd be great Men indeed--
_Whiff._ If we wou'd, Doctor, name, name the way.
_Dun._ Why, you command each of you a Company--when _Bacon_ comes from the Camp, as I am sure he will, (and full of this silly thing call'd Honour, will come unguarded too) lay some of your Men in Ambush along those Ditches by the _Sevana_, about a Mile from the Town; and as he comes by, seize him, and hang him up upon the next Tree.
_Whiff._ Hum--hang him! a rare Plot.
_Whim._ Hang him!--we'll do't, we'll do't, Sir, and I doubt not but to be made General for the Action--I'll take it all upon my self.
[Aside.
_Dun._ If you resolve upon this, you must about instantly--Thus I shall at once serve my Country, and revenge my self on the Rascal for affronting my Dignity once at the Council-Table, by calling me Farrier.
[Ex. _Dr._
_Whiff._ Do you know, Brother, what we are to do?
_Whim._ To do! yes, to hang a General, Brother, that's all.
_Whiff._ All! but is it lawful to hang any General?
_Whim._ Lawful, yes, that 'tis lawful to hang any General that fights against Law.
_Whiff._ But in what he has done, he has serv'd the King and our Country, and preserv'd our Lives and Fortunes.
_Whim._ That's all one, Brother; if there be but a Quirk in the Law offended in this Case, though he fought like _Alexander_, and preserv'd the whole World from Perdition, yet if he did it against Law, 'tis lawful to hang him; why, what, Brother, is it fit that every impudent Fellow that pretends to a little Honour, Loyalty, and Courage, should serve his King and Country against the Law? no, no, Brother, these things are not to be suffer'd in a civil Government by Law establish'd,--wherefore let's about it.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. _Surelove's_ House.
Enter _Ranter_ and _Jeffery_ her Coachman.
_Ran._ Here, _Jeffery_, ye drunken Dog, set your Coach and Horses up, I'll not go till the cool of the Evening, I love to ride in _Fresco_.
Enter a _Boy_.
_Coach._ Yes, after hard drinking-- [Aside.] It shall be done, Madam.
[Exit.
_Ran._ How now, Boy, is Madam _Surelove_ at home?
_Boy._ Yes, Madam.
_Ran._ Go tell her I am here, Sirrah.
_Boy._ Who are you pray forsooth?
_Ran._ Why, you Son of a Baboon, don't you know me?
_Boy._ No, Madam, I came over but in the last Ship.
_Ran._ What, from _Newgate_ or _Bridewell_? from shoveing the Tumbler, Sirrah, lifting or filing the Cly?
_Boy._ I don't understand this Country Language, forsooth, yet.
_Ran._ You Rogue, 'tis what we transport from _England_ first--go, ye Dog, go tell your Lady the Widow _Ranter_ is come to dine with her-- [Exit _Boy_.] I hope I shall not find that Rogue _Daring_ here sniveling after Mrs. _Chrisante_: If I do, by the Lord, I'll lay him thick. Pox on him, why shou'd I love the Dog, unless it be a Judgment upon me.
Enter _Surelove_ and _Chrisante_.
--My dear Jewel, how do'st do?--as for you, Gentlewoman, you are my Rival, and I am in Rancour against you till you have renounc'd my _Daring_.
_Chris._ All the Interest I have in him, Madam, I resign to you.
_Ran._ Ay, but your House lying so near the Camp, gives me mortal Fears--but prithee how thrives thy Amour with honest _Friendly_?
_Chris._ As well as an Amour can that is absolutely forbid by a Father on one side, and pursued by a good Resolution on the other.
_Ran._ Hay Gad, I'll warrant for _Friendly's_ Resolution, what though his Fortune be not answerable to yours, we are bound to help one another.--Here, Boy, some Pipes and a Bowl of Punch; you know my Humour, Madam, I must smoak and drink in a Morning, or I am maukish all day.
_Sure._ But will you drink Punch in a Morning?
_Ran._ Punch! 'tis my Morning's Draught, my Table-drink, my Treat, my Regalio, my every thing; ah, my dear _Surelove_, if thou wou'd but refresh and cheer thy Heart with Punch in a Morning, thou wou'dst not look thus cloudy all the day.
Enter Pipes and a great Bowl, she falls to smoaking.
_Sure._ I have reason, Madam, to be melancholy, I have receiv'd a Letter from my Husband, who gives me an account that he is worse in _England_ than when he was here, so that I fear I shall see him no more, the Doctors can do no good on him.
_Ran._ A very good hearing. I wonder what the Devil thou hast done with him so long? an old fusty weatherbeaten Skeleton, as dried as Stock-fish, and much of the Hue.--Come, come, here's to the next, may he be young, Heaven, I beseech thee.
[Drinks.
_Sure._ You have reason to praise an old Man, who dy'd and left you worth fifty thousand Pound.
_Ran._ Ay, Gad--and what's better, Sweetheart, dy'd in good time too, and left me young enough to spend this fifty thousand Pound in better Company--rest his Soul for that too.
_Chris._ I doubt 'twill be all laid out in _Bacon's_ mad Lieutenant General _Daring_.
_Ran._ Faith, I think I could lend it the Rogue on good Security.
_Chris._ What's that, to be bound Body for Body?