Enter _Whimsey_, pulling in _Whiff_, with a Halter about his Neck.
_Whim._ Nay, I'm resolved to keep thee here till his Honour the General comes.--What, to call him Traitor, and run away after he had so generously given us our freedom, and listed us Cadees for the next Command that fell in his Army--I'm resolved to hang thee--
_Whiff._ Wilt thou betray and peach thy Friend? thy Friend that kept thee Company all the while thou wert a Prisoner--drinking at my own charge--
_Whim._ No matter for that, I scorn Ingratitude, and therefore will hang thee--but as for thy drinking with me--I scorn to be behind-hand with thee in Civility, and therefore here's to thee.
[Takes a Bottle of Brandy out of his Pocket, Drinks.
_Whiff._ I can't drink.
_Whim._ A certain sign thou wo't be hang'd.
_Whiff._ You us'd to be o' my side when a Justice, let the Cause be how it wou'd.
[Weeps.
_Whim._ Ay--when I was a Justice I never minded Honesty, but now I'll be true to my General, and hang thee to be a great Man.--
_Whiff._ If I might but have a fair Trial for my Life--
_Whim._ A fair Trial!--come, I'll be thy Judge--and if thou canst clear thy self by Law, I'll acquit thee: Sirrah, Sirrah, what canst thou say for thy self for calling his Honour Rebel?
[Sits on a Drum-head.
_Whiff._ 'T was when I was drunk, an't like your Honour.
_Whim._ That's no Plea; for if you kill a Man when you are sober, you must be hanged when you are drunk. Hast thou any thing else to say for thy self why Sentence may not pass upon thee?
_Whiff._ I desire the Benefit of the Clergy.
_Whim._ The Clergy! I never knew any body that ever did benefit by 'em; why, thou canst not read a word.
_Whiff._ Transportation then--
_Whim._ It shall be to _England_ then--but hold--who's this?
[_Dullman_ creeping from a Bush.
_Dull._ So the Danger's over, I may venture out--Pox on't, I wou'd not be in this fear again, to be Lord Chief Justice of our Court. Why, how now, Cornet?--what, in dreadful Equipage? Your Battle-Ax bloody, with Bow and Arrows.
Enter _Timorous_ with Battle-Ax, Bow and Arrows, and Feathers on his Head.
_Tim._ I'm in the posture of the times, Major--I cou'd not be idle where so much Action was; I'm going to present my self to the General, with these Trophies of my Victory here--
_Dull._ Victory--what Victory--did not I see thee creeping out of yonder Bush, where thou wert hid all the Fight--stumble on a dead _Indian_, and take away his Arms?
_Tim._ Why, didst thou see me?
_Dull._ See thee, ay--and what a fright thou wert in, till thou wert sure he was dead.
_Tim._ Well, well, that's all one--Gads zoors, if every Man that passes for valiant in a Battel, were to give an account how he gained his Reputation, the World wou'd be but thinly stock'd with Heroes; I'll say he was a great War-Captain, and that I kill'd him hand to hand, and who can disprove me?
_Dull._ Disprove thee--why, that pale Face of thine, that has so much of the Coward in't.
_Tim._ Shaw, that's with loss of Blood--Hah, I am overheard I doubt--who's yonder-- [Sees _Whim._ and _Whiff_.] how, Brother _Whiff_ in a Hempen Cravat-string?
_Whim._ He call'd the General Traitor, and was running away, and I'm resolv'd to peach.
_Dull._ Hum--and one Witness will stand good in Law, in case of Treason--
_Tim._ Gads zoors, in case of Treason, he'll be hang'd if it be proved against him, were there ne'er a Witness at all; but he must be tried by a Council of War, Man--Come, come, let's disarm him-- [They take away his Arms, and pull a Bottle of Brandy out of his Pocket.
_Whiff._ What, I hope you will not take away my Brandy, Gentlemen, my last comfort.
_Tim._ Gads zoors, it's come in good time--we'll drink it off, here, Major-- [Drinks, _Whiff_ takes him aside.
_Whiff._ Hark ye, Cornet--you are my good Friend, get this matter made up before it come to the General.
_Tim._ But this is Treason, Neighbour.
_Whiff._ If I hang--I'll declare upon the Ladder how you kill'd your War-Captain.
_Tim._ Come, Brother _Whimsey_--we have been all Friends and loving Magistrates together, let's drink about, and think no more of this Business.
_Dull._ Ay, ay, if every sober Man in the Nation should be called to account of the Treason he speaks in's Drink, the Lord have mercy upon us all.--Put it up--and let us, like loving Brothers, take an honest Resolution to run away together; for this same _Frightall_ minds nothing but Fighting.
_Whim._ I'm content, provided we go all to the Council, and tell them (to make our Peace) we went in obedience to the Proclamation, to kill _Bacon_, but the Traitor was so strongly guarded we could not effect it: but mum--who's here?--
To them, enter _Ranter_ and _Jenny_, as Man and Footman.
_Ran._ Hah, our four reverend Justices--I hope the Blockheads will not know me--Gentlemen, can you direct me to Lieutenant General _Daring's_ Tents?
_Whiff._ Hum, who the Devil's this?--that's he you see coming this way.
'Sdeath, yonder's _Daring_--let's slip away before he advances.
[Exeunt all but _Ran._ and _Jen._
_Jen._ I am scar'd with those dead Bodies we have pass'd over; for God's sake, Madam, let me know your design in coming.
_Ran._ Why, now I tell thee--my damn'd mad Fellow _Daring_, who has my Heart and Soul, loves _Chrisante_, has stolen her, and carried her away to his Tents; she hates him, while I am dying for him.
_Jem._ Dying, Madam! I never saw you melancholy.
_Ran._ Pox on't, no; why should I sigh and whine, and make my self an Ass, and him conceited? no, instead of snivelling I am resolved--
_Jen._ What, Madam?
_Ran._ Gad, to beat the Rascal, and bring off _Chrisante_.
_Jen._ Beat him, Madam! what, a Woman beat a Lieutenant-General?
_Ran._ Hang 'em, they get a name in War from Command, not Courage; but how know I but I may fight? Gad, I have known a Fellow kick'd from one end of the Town to t'other, believing himself a Coward; at last forced to fight, found he could; got a Reputation, and bullied all he met with; and got a Name, and a great Commission.