p. 152, l. 32 being retir'd. 1724 'retires'.

p. 154, l. 34 Pag. All previous editions here give speech-prefix 'Boy'. The alteration from 'Page' to 'Boy' is quite unnecessary.

p. 155, l. 13 Lor. and Page run. All previous editions 'Lor. runs away', but obviously the Page accompanies his master.

ACT II: Scene iv

p. 156, l. 1 Antonio's House. I have supplied this locale.

p. 157, l. 10 Puts on the Veil. 1724 merely reads 'Exeunt.'

ACT II: Scene v

p. 157, l. 12 A Chamber. I have supplied the locale.

p. 157, l. 29 Exit Page. I have added this stage direction.

p. 158, l. 17 you will believe. 1724 omits 'will'.

ACT III: Scene i

p. 160, l. 7 A Room. I have supplied the locale.

p. 161, l. 23 you're. 1671 'your'.

ACT III: Scene ii

p. 163, l. 19 A Street. I have supplied this locale.

ACT III: Scene iii

p. 171, l. 30 Galliard. 4to 1671 has 'with a Galliard', and to Galliard's lines gives speech-prefix 'Serv.'

p. 172, l. 6 and his Page. I have marked the Page's entrance here. It is not noted by previous editions.

p. 173, l. 16 Ex. Page. 4to 1671 'Ex. Boy.'

p. 174, l. 6 Bone Mine. 4to 1671 'Bon Meen'.

p. 174, l. 13 with Musick. I have added these words.

ACT IV: Scene i

p. 176, l. 30 did not hate. 1724 omits 'not'.

p. 177, l. 22 never. 4to 1671 'ever'.

p. 177, l. 32 Joys. 4to 1671 'Joy'.

p. 178, l. 10 Ism. Know it was. Both 4to 1671, and 1724 read 'No, it was', which does not give sense. There can be little doubt 'Know' is the correct reading.

p. 178, l. 18 slight. 1724 'flight'.

ACT IV: Scene ii

p. 178, l. 29 A Street. I have added this locale, which no previous edition marks.

ACT IV: Scene iii

p. 183, l. 25 Frederick's Chamber. I have added this locale.

p. 184, l. 22 oft. 1724 'soft'.

p. 185, l. 35 Exeunt Musick. I have inserted this stage direction.

p. 186, l. 3 Exit Page. I have supplied this.

ACT IV: Scene iv

p. 187, l. 23 A Street. I have added this locale.

p. 188, l. 3 Antonio's Valet. 4to 1671 simply 'Vallet.' 1724 'Valet.' The servant is obviously Antonio's man.

p. 188, l. 27 foutering. 1724 'soutering'.

p. 189, l. 2 To some Tune like him. Only in 4to 1671.

p. 189, l. 9 And quite unveil'd. Only 4to 1671 gives this line.

ACT IV: Scene v

p. 190, l. 31 Antonio's House. I have supplied the locale.

ACT V: Scene i

p. 193, l. 10 Laura's Chamber. I have added the locale.

ACT V: Scene ii

p. 197, l. 30 A Grove. I have supplied this locale.

p. 199, l. 36 Teresia's. 4to 1671 'Teretia's'.

p. 200, l. 3 certain 'tis. 4to 1671 'it is certain'.

ACT V: Scene iii

p. 200, l. 28 What Arms. 4to 1671 gives this line to Pietro.

p. 201, l. 21 Millanoise. 1724 'Milanese'.

p. 201, l. 22 Genovese. 1724 'Genoese'.

p. 201, l. 27 a Maltan who pretends. 1724 'the Maltese, who pretend'.

p. 201, l. 30 a Cicilian. 1724 'the Sicilians'.

p. 201, l. 31 his. 1724 'their'. The alterations made by 1724 and the confusion of plurals and singular in this passage, which I have left untouched, are noticeable.

p. 202, l. 27 sets. 1724 'sits'.

p. 203, l. 5 others. 1724 'other'.

p. 203, l. 12 O'. 4to 1671 'A'.'

p. 204, l. 20 their. 4to 1671 'the'.

p. 206, l. 33 Visors. 1724 'Vizards'.

p. 207, l. 5 Braves. 1724 'Bravoes'.

p. 209, l. 19 'Twas a Temptation. 1724 quite erroneously gives this speech to Cloris.

p. 212, l. 13 Clo. speaks aside to Guil. 1724 'Aside to Guil.'

p. 212, l. 24 Curtain Falls. Only in 4to 1671.

Epilogue

p. 213, l. 5 E'en humble. 4to 1671 omits 'E'en'.

p. 213, l. 22 Leadies. 1724 'Ladies'.

NOTES: CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY.

Prologue

p. 121 Great Johnson's way. cf. what Mrs. Behn says in her 'Epistle to the Reader' prefacing The Dutch Lover (Vol. I, p. 224), of the Jonsonian enthusiast: 'a man the most severe of Johnson's Sect.'

p. 121 Nokes and Angel. The two celebrated low comedians. Angel died in the spring of 1673. He was a great farceur, but gagged unmercifully, to the no small annoyance of the poets.

p. 121 Cataline. Jonson's tragedy was revived with great splendour at the King's House, Friday, 18 December, 1668, and remained a stock play until the retirement of Hart (who excelled in Catiline) at the Union in 1682. Michael Mohun was famous in Cethegus, and Mrs. Corey in Sempronia. Pepys found the play itself rather dull as a whole 'though most fine in clothes, and a fine Scene of the Senate, and of a fight, as ever I saw in my life.' A year before its actual production his crony, Harry Harris, a member of the rival theatre had 'talked of Catiline which is to be suddenly acted at the King's House; and there all agree that it cannot be well done at that house, there not being good actors enough; and Burt acts Cicero, which they all conclude he will not be able to do well. The King gives them L500 for robes, there being, as they say, to be sixteen scarlet robes.' (11 December, 1667.) In the first quarto (1672), of Buckingham's The Rehearsal, Bayes refers to Catiline saying that his design in a certain scene is 'Roman cloaths, guilded Truncheons, forc'd conceipt, smooth Verse, and a Rant.' The words 'Roman cloaths' are omitted in all subsequent editions.

p. 121 the Comick Hat. In 1670 there was produced at the Theatre Royal, Dryden's The Conquest of Granada, Part I. The witty prologue was 'spoken by Mrs. Ellen Gwyn' (who acted Almahide) 'in a Broad-Brimm'd Hat, and Waist Belt'. It commences thus:—

This jest was first of t'other house's making, And five times tried, has never fail'd of taking; For 'twere a shame a poet should be kill'd Under the shelter of so broad a shield. This is the hat, whose very sight did win ye To laugh and clap as tho' the devil were in ye. As then, for Nokes, so now I hope you'll be So dull, to laugh, once more, for love of me.

Two slightly different explanations are given of the jest. Theatrical tradition has it that Dryden supplied Nell Gwynne, who was plump and petite, with this hat of the circumference of a cart wheel, in ridicule of a hat worn by Nokes of the Duke's company whilst playing Ancient Pistol. It is again said that in May, 1670, whilst the Court was at Dover to receive the Duchess of Orleans, the Duke's Company played there Shadwell's The Sullen Lovers, and Caryl's Sir Salomon; or, The Cautious Coxcomb, in which latter comedy Nokes acted Sir Arthur Addle, a bawling fop. The dress of the French gallants attending the Duchess was characterised by an excessively short laced scarlet or blue coat, a very broad waist-belt and a wide-leaved hat. Nokes appeared on the stage in a still shorter coat, a huger waist-belt, and a hat of preposterous dimensions. The Duke of Monmouth buckled his own sword to the actor's side, and, according to old Downes, our comedian looked more like a dressed-up ape or a quiz on the French than Sir Arthur Addle. The English Court was straightway convulsed with laughter at this mimicry, which seems, to say the least, in highly questionable taste. When Nell Gwynne appeared and burlesqued the biter, Charles II, who was present at the first performance of The Conquest of Granada, well nigh died of merriment, and her verve in delivering Dryden's witty lines wholly completed her conquest of the King. Nell Gwynne did not appear on the boards after 1670.

p. 121 The Jig and Dance. cf. note (on p. 43), Vol. III, p. 477: A Jigg (The Town Fop). The Jig is in this prologue clearly distinct from a dance. Act IV, sc. iii (p. 185): 'Cloris dances a Jig'— (i.e. the simple dance).

ACT I: Scene iii

p. 133 Capriol. Capriole (French) signifies a leap made by a horse without advancing.

ACT I: Scene iv

p. 140 Clarina why thus clouded? Similar expressions in Davenant's The Siege of Rhodes (4to 1663), Part 1, the Second Entry:—

Mustapha. I bring the morning pictur'd in a cloud.

And in Sir William Barclay's The Lost Lady (folio, 1639), Act II:—

Enter Phillida veiled who talks to Ergasto aside and then goes out. Cleon. From what part of the town comes this fair day In a cloud that makes you look so cheerfully?

are burlesqued in The Rehearsal, III, v:—

Vols. Can vulgar vestments high-born beauty shroud? Thou bring'st the Morning pictur'd in a Cloud.

ACT III: Scene ii

p. 164 ... is welcome. Buckingham parodies this in The Rehearsal, IV, iii:—

Cordelia. My lieges, news from Volscius the prince. Usher. His news is welcome, whatso'er it be. Smith. How, sir, do you mean that? Whether it be good or bad?

ACT III: Scene iii

p. 172 tabering. Beating on; tapping; drumming. This rare word occurs in Nahum, II, vii: 'Her maids shall lead her as with the voice of doves tabering upon their breasts.'

ACT IV: Scene ii

p. 180 Hansel'd. To handsel is to inaugurate with some ceremony of an auspicious kind, e.g. to begin the New Year by presenting a new comer with a gift.

p. 183 She leapt into the River. The Rehearsal, Act V, burlesques this:— 'The Argument of the Fifth Act ... Cloris in despair, drowns herself: and Prince Pretty-man, discontentedly, walks by the River side.'

ACT IV: Scene iv

p. 188 foutering. Fouter (Fr. foutre; Lat. futuere), verbum obscaenum. cf. the noun in phrase 'to care not a fouter' (footra, footre, foutre), 2 Henry IV, V, iii. To 'fouter' is also used (a vulgarism and a provincialism) in a much mitigated sense = to meddle about aimlessly, to waste time and tongue doing nothing, as of a busybody.

p. 189 Niperkin. This would seem to be a slang expression, as Grose gives it meaning 'a small measure'. It was also used for the actual stone jug. cf. D'Urfey, Pills to Purge Melancholy (1719): 'Quart-pot, Pint-pot, nipperkin.' N.E.D., quoting this passage, explains as 'a small quantity of wine, ale, or spirits.'

p. 190 Camphire Posset. Camphor had a high reputation as an antaphrodisiac. cf. Dryden, The Spanish Friar (1681), Act I, where Gomez says of his wife: 'I'll get a physician that shall prescribe her an ounce of camphire every morning, for her breakfast, to abate incontinency'; also Congreve, The Way of the World (1700), IV, xii: 'You are all camphire and frankincense, all chastity and odour.'

* * * * * * * * *

Cross-References from Critical Notes: The Amorous Prince

p. 121 The Jig and Dance. cf. note (on p. 43), Vol. III, p. 477: A Jigg (The Town Fop).

Town Fop note:

p. 43 A Jigg. There were, in Post-Restoration times, two interpretations of the word Jig. Commonly speaking it was taken to mean exactly what it would now, a simple dance. Nell Gwynne and Moll Davis were noted for the dancing of Jigs. cf. Epilogue to Buckingham's The Chances (1682):—

The Author dreads the strut and meen Of new prais'd Poets, having often seen Some of his Fellows, who have writ before, When Nel has danc'd her Jig, steal to the Door, Hear the Pit clap, and with conceit of that Swell, and believe themselves the Lord knows what.

Thus at the end of Lacy's The Old Troop (31 July, 1668), we have 'a dance of two hobby horses in armour, and a Jig.' Also shortly before the epilogue in Shadwell's The Sullen Lovers (1668) we read, 'Enter a Boy in the habit of Pugenello and traverses the stage, takes his chair and sits down, then dances a Jig.'

But it must be remembered that beside the common meaning there was a gloss upon the word derived from Elizabethan stage practice. In the prologue to The Fair Maid of the Inn (licensed 1626), good plays are spoken of as often scurvily treated, whilst

A Jigge shall be clapt at, and every rhime Prais'd and applauded by a clam'rous chyme.

The Pre-Restoration Jig was little other indeed than a ballad opera in embryo lasting about twenty-five minutes and given as an after-piece. It was a rhymed farce in which the dialogue was sung or chanted by the characters to popular ballad tunes. But after the Restoration the Jig assumed a new and more serious complexion, and came eventually to be dovetailed with the play itself, instead of being given at the fag end of the entertainment. Mr. W. J. Lawrence, the well-known theatrical authority to whom I owe much valuable information contained in this note, would (doubtless correctly) attribute the innovation to Stapylton and Edward Howard, both of whom dealt pretty freely in these Jigs. Stapylton has in Act V of The Slighted Maid (1663) a 'Song in Dialogue' between Aurora and Phoebus with a chorus of Cyclops, which met with some terrible parody in The Rehearsal (cf. the present editor's edition of The Rehearsal, p. 145). Indeed all extrinsic songs in dialogue, however serious the theme, were considered 'Jigs'. A striking example would be the Song of the Spirits in Dryden's Tyrannic Love, Act IV.

In Post-Restoration days a ballad sung in the streets by two persons was frequently called a Jig, presumably because it was a 'song in dialogue'. Numerous examples are to be found amongst the Roxburgh Ballads.

The Jig introduced in Sir Timothy Tawdrey would seem to have been the simple dance although not improbably an epithalamium was also sung.

* * * * * * * * *

Errors and Irregularities: The Amorous Prince

In the Notes, alternation between .' and '. at paragraph-end is as printed. The abbreviation "cf." is always lower-case.

Cur. Never, I hope. [. missing] Enter Curtius. / Cur. How! the Prince! [Enter Curtuis.] Cur. I cry you mercy, Sir, pray what are you; [; unchanged] [Aside to her. / [Ex. Isab. [Aside. / [Ex. Page and Guil. with Musick. [brackets before "Exit" added for consistency in e-text] They set Ism. in a Chair [they] Cur. Guilliam—the same [Gulliam] 'Tis something cold, I'll go take a Niperkin of Wine, [, as shown] Lau. Forward, dear Cloris. [, for .] [She shakes her Hand, as not understanding him. [text unchanged: error for Head?] But my Master must first speak with you alone, [, for .]

Notes on Text

p. 180 ... an auspicious kind, e.g. to begin [kind.]

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

THE WIDOW RANTER.



ARGUMENT.

Bacon, General of the English in Virginia, has fought with great success against the Indians and repeatedly beaten back their tribes, although the Supreme Council, by whom the Colony is governed, have refused him a commission, and, in spite of his victories, persist in treating him as a rebel and a traitor. This Council indeed is composed of a number of cowards and rogues, who through sheer malice and carping jealousy attribute Bacon's prowess to his known passion for Semernia, the Indian Queen, and who feign to think that he fights merely with the hope of slaying her husband, the King Cavernio. These rascals are none the less mightily afraid of the general's valour and spirit, so they determine to entice him from his camp under various specious pretexts, and then, once he is completely in their power, to have him executed or assassinated. With this object in view they send a friendly letter asking him to attend the Council, to accept a regular commission, and to raise new forces. On his way to the town Bacon is attacked by an ambush of soldiers, whom he beats off with the help of one of his lieutenants, Fearless, backed by Lieutenant Daring and a troop of his own men, who capture Whimsey and Whiff, two very prominent justices, instigators of the plot. He accordingly appears before the Council with a couple of prisoners. The populace, who are all for their hero, realizing the treachery, raise a riot, and throw the Councillors into a state of the utmost confusion and alarm. They spur themselves to action, however, and under the leadership of Colonel Wellman, Deputy Governor, proceed to take the field against Bacon, who is declared an open and lawless rebel. When he appears the soldiers, none the less, join themselves to their hero, and as at the same moment news is brought that the Indians have risen and are attacking the town, Bacon is induced to lead the troops against the foe; and in a pitched battle Cavernio is slain. That night whilst his army is revelling after their victory the Council and their party with infamous treachery suddenly attack the camp. There are further skirmishes with a remnant of the Indian fugitives, and in one of these frays Bacon accidentally wounds Semernia, who is flying disguised in man's attire. He recognizes her voice, and she sinks into his arms to die. As he is weeping over her body Fearless rushes in with drawn sword shouting that the day is all but lost. Bacon, his mistress dead, deeming that his men are overcome by the attack from the town and that he will himself be captured, takes poison which he carries concealed in the pommel of his sword, whilst Daring and his soldiers are heard shouting 'Victory! Victory!' The hero, however, expires at the moment his men have conquered, but the Council speedily come to terms, naming with a commission Daring as General, whilst Colonel Wellman announces his intention of weeding this body of rogues and cowards against the arrival of the new Governor who is expected from England.

Daring, upon his commission, is wedded to the Widow Ranter, first mistress and then wife of old Colonel Ranter, recently deceased, a wealthy, buxom virago who has followed her soldier during the fighting in man's attire and even allowed herself to be taken prisoner by a young gallant, Hazard, just landed from England, and who has occupied his time in an amour with a certain Mrs. Surelove. Hazard, upon his arrival, meets an old acquaintance, Friendly, who loves and is eventually united to Crisante, daughter to Colonel Downright; whilst Parson Dunce, the Governor's chaplain, is made to marry Mrs. Flirt, the keeper of a hostelry, a good dame with whom he has been a little too familiar on a promise of matrimony.



SOURCE.

The admirable comic scenes and characters of The Widow Ranter are original invention, but Mrs. Behn has founded the serious and historical portion of her play upon a contemporary pamphlet, Strange News from Virginia being a full and true account of the Life and Death of Nathaniel Bacon esq. London: printed for Wm. Harris, 1677. With regard to the catastrophe and Bacon's love for the Indian Queen, Mrs. Behn has quite legitimately departed from the narrative, but otherwise she keeps fairly closely to her sources. There is also a History of Bacon and Ingram's Rebellion in Virginia in 1675-76, written at the time but first published in 1867.

The Dictionary of National Biography gives a very ample yet concise account of Bacon, with valuable references to original documents. He was the son of Sir Thomas Bacon of Friston Hall, Suffolk. Born in 1642, about 1673 he married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Edward Duke, Bart., and shortly afterwards in a spirit of roving adventure emigrated to Virginia. Here he was elected a member of the Council, and his estates being especially exposed to Indian raids the volunteer colonists chose him General. The Governor, however, delayed to send the necessary commission, and Bacon having in this interval attacked a band of Indian marauders was promptly declared a rebel. The Governor was thereupon forced to yield by a general revolt, and in a second expedition Bacon defeated the Indians with terrific slaughter. A little later when reinforcements had arrived the Governor again declared him an outlaw, but after a brief struggle was himself obliged to take refuge at sea, whilst Jamestown fell into the hands of the victorious General, who not being able to garrison the houses, burned it to the ground. In the midst of his success, whilst he was busied with new plans for the welfare and protection of the colonists, Bacon died suddenly, 1676. He left one daughter, Mary, who married Hugh Chamberlain, M.D., physician to Queen Anne. Mrs. Behn has drawn his character with remarkable accuracy. Even his enemies were obliged to allow he possessed extraordinary ability, and he won all by the grace and charm of his manner. Oldys, in a MS. note on Langbaine (Mrs. Behn), attributes to the colonist A Historical Discourse of the Government of England (1647), but the date of publication sufficiently shows that the antiquary is palpably in error.

Langbaine in his note on The Widow Ranter abruptly and sweepingly remarks 'Plot from the known story of Cassius,' which the Biographia Dramatica yet more erroneously expands as follows: 'The tragedy part of it, particularly the catastrophe of Bacon, is borrowed from the well-known story of Cassius, who, on the supposition of his friend Brutus being defeated, caused himself to be put to death by the hand of his freedman Dandarus.' C. Cassius Longinus was defeated at Philippi (B.C. 42), by Antony, and ignorant that the left wing commanded by Brutus had conquered Octavius, he straightway commanded his freedman Pindarus to put an end to his life. It is strange that both authorities should have made this mistake, the more so as Bacon expressly alludes to the fate of Hannibal, from whose history, and not that of Cassius, Mrs Behn doubtless borrowed the idea of her hero's suicide. Cassius is indeed alluded to but casually, and not by Bacon's self. Hannibal had fled to the court of Prusias, King of Bithynia, who, unable to resist the demands of the Romans, eventually sent troops to arrest his guest. The great Carthaginian, however, having provided himself with poison in case of such an event, swallowed the venomed drug to prevent himself falling into the hands of his enemies. Dullman, Timorous Cornet, Whimsey, Whiff, and the other Justices of the Peace who appear in this play are aptly described in Oroonoko, where Mrs. Behn speaks of the Governor's Council 'who (not to disgrace them, or burlesque the Government there) consisted of such notorious villains as Newgate ever transported; and, possibly, originally were such who understood neither the laws of God or man, and had no sort of principles to make them worthy of the name of men; but at the very council-table would contradict and fight with one another, and swear so bloodily, that it was terrible to hear and see them. (Some of them were afterwards hanged, when the Dutch took possession of the place, others sent off in chains.)'



THEATRICAL HISTORY.

When The Widow Ranter; or, The History of Bacon in Virginia was produced at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, in 1690—the year after Mrs. Behn's death—owing to the slipshod and slovenly way in which it was put on, or rather, 'murdered', to use the phrase of the dedication, it did not meet with the success so capital a piece fully deserved. Such ample and needless omissions were made that the intrigue soon became hopelessly fogged, many incidents seeming absolutely disjointed and superfluous. For not only were heavier scenes, including the apparition of Cavernio, cut, but the essential comic relief was woefully maltreated. The Court House opening of Act III was expunged in its entirety, whilst other episodes were so mangled and the speeches so pruned that they proved practically unintelligible. Again, the play was badly cast. Indifferent performers such as Barnes, Baker, Cudworth, were entrusted with roles they were incapable of acting, whilst Daring, the dashing, gallant, and handsome young officer, who is loved by the Widow, was alloted to Sanford, of all men most supremely unfitted for the part. Indeed, it would seem that the casting was done on purpose perversely and malignly to damn the play. Samuel Sanford, who had joined Davenant's company within a year of their opening, had been forced by nature, being low of stature and crooked of person, rather than by choice, into a line denoted by such characters as Iago, Creon in Dryden and Lee's Oedipus, Malignii, Osmund the wizard in King Arthur. 'An excellent actor in disagreeable characters' Cibber terms him, and old Aston sums him up thus: 'Mr. Sanford, although not usually deem'd an Actor of the first Rank, yet the Characters allotted him were such, that none besides, then, or since, ever topp'd; for his Figure, which was diminutive and mean, (being Round-shoulder'd, Meagre-fac'd, Spindle-shank'd, Splay-footed, with a sour Countenance and long lean Arms) render'd him a proper Person to discharge Jago, Foresight and Ma'lignij, in the Villain.—This Person acted strongly with his Face,—and (as King Charles said) was the best Villain in the World.' The performance of an actor with such a marked personality and unpleasantly peculiar talents as are thus enumerated, in the role of Daring must been grotesque and distasteful to a degree. In such an accumulation of unfortunate circumstances there could have been no other event than the failure of the play, which was so complete as effectually to bar any chance of subsequent revival. Indeed, there seems to have been only one feature of any merit: Betty Currer, the original Aquilina in Venice Preserv'd, acted the name part with the greatest spirit and abandon.



To the much Honoured

MADAM WELLDON.

Madam

Knowing Mrs. Behn in her Life-time design'd to Dedicate some of her Works to you, you have a Naturall Title, and claim to this and I could not without being unjust to her Memory, but fix your Name to it, who have not only a Wit above that of most of your Sex; but a goodness and Affability Extreamly Charming, and Engaging beyond Measure, and perhaps there are few to be found like you, that are so Eminent for Hospitallity, and a Ready and Generous Assistance to the distress'd and Indigent, which are Quallities that carry much more of Divinity with them, than a Puritannicall outward Zeal for Virtue and Religion.

Our Author, Madam, who was so true a Judge of Wit, was (no doubt of it) satisfyed in the Patroness she had pitcht upon: If ever she had occasion for a Wit and Sense like yours 'tis now, to Defend this (one of the last of her Works) from the Malice of her Enemies, and the ill Nature of the Critticks, who have had Ingratitude enough not to Consider the Obligations they had to her when Living; but to do those Gentlemen Justice, 'tis not (altogether) to be Imputed to their Critticism, that the Play had not that Success which it deserv'd, and was expected by her Friends; The main fault ought to lye on those who had the management of it. Had our Authour been alive she would have Committed it to the Flames rather than have suffer'd it to have been Acted with such Omissions as was made, and on which the Foundation of the Play Depended: For Example, they thought fit to leave out a Whole Scene of the Virginian Court of Judicature, which was a lively resemblance of that Country-Justice; and on which depended a great part of the Plot, and wherein were many unusuall and very Naturall Jests which would at least have made some sort of People laugh: In another Part of the Play is Omitted the appearance of the Ghost of the Indian King, kill'd by Bacon, and tho' the like may have been Represented in other Plays, yet I never heard or found but that the sight was very agreeable to an Audience, and very Awfull: besides the Apparition of the Ghost was necessary, for it was that which struck a Terror in the Queen, and frighten'd her from heark'ning to the Love of Bacon, believing it a horrid thing to receive the Caresses and Embraces of her Husbands Murderer: And Lastly, many of the Parts being false Cast, and given to those whose Tallants and Genius's suited not our Author's Intention: These, Madam, are some of the Reasons that this Play was unsuccessfull, and the best Play that ever was writ must prove so: if it have the Fate to be Murder'd like this.

However, Madam, I can't but believe you will find an hours diversion in the reading, and will meet with not only Wit, but true Comedy, (tho' low) by reason many of the Characters are such only as our Newgate afforded, being Criminals Transported.

This play, Madam, being left in my hands by the Author to Introduce to the Publick, I thought my self oblig'd to say thus much in its defence, and that it was also a Duty upon me to choose a Patroness proper for it, and the Author having pitcht upon your Name to do Honour to some of her Works, I thought your Protection, could be so usefull to none, as to this, whose owning it may Silence the Malice of its Enemies; Your Wit and Judgment being to be Submitted to in all Cases; Besides your Natural Tenderness and Compassion for the Unfortunate, gives you in a manner another Title to it: The Preference which is due to you upon so many Accounts is therefore the Reason of this present Address, for at the Worst, if this Play should be so Unfortunate as not to be thought worthy of your Acceptance; Yet it is certain, that its worth any Man's while to have the Honour of subscribing himself,

Madam, Your Most Obedient Humble, Servant, G. J.



THE WIDOW RANTER:

Or, the History of Bacon in Virginia.



PROLOGUE,

By Mr. Dryden.

Heaven save ye, Gallants; and this hopeful Age, Y' are welcome to the downfal of the Stage: The Fools have laboured long in their Vocation; And Vice (the Manufacture of the Nation) O'er-stocks the Town so much, and thrives so well, That Fops and Knaves grow Drugs, and will not sell. In vain our Wares on Theaters are shown, When each has a Plantation of his own. His Cruse ne'er fails; for whatsoe'er he spends, There's still God's plenty for himself and Friends. Shou'd Men be rated by Poetick Rules, Lord, what a Poll would there be rais'd from Fools! Mean time poor Wit prohibited must lie, As if 'twere made some French Commodity. Fools you will have, and rais'd at vast expence; And yet as soon as seen, they give offence. Time was, when none would cry that Oaf was me, But now you strive about your Pedigree: Bauble and Cap no sooner are thrown down, But there's a Muss of more than half the Town. Each one will challenge a Child's part at least, A sign the Family is well increas'd. Of Foreign Cattle there's no longer need, When we're supply'd so fast with English Breed, Well! Flourish, Countrymen; drink, swear and roar, Let every free-born Subject keep his Whore; And wandring in the Wilderness about, At end of Forty Years not wear her out. But when you see these Pictures, let none dare To own beyond a Limb or single share: For where the Punk is common, he's a Sot, Who needs will father what the Parish got.



DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

MEN.

Indian King called Cavernio, Mr. Bowman. Bacon, General of the English, Mr. Williams. Colonel Wellman, Deputy Governor, Mr. Freeman. Col. Downright, a loyal honest Colonel, Mr. Harris. Hazard } Two Friends known to one another Mr. Alexander, Friendly } many Years in England, Mr. Powell. Daring } Lieutenant Generals to Bacon Mr. Sandford, Fearless } Mr. Cudworth. Dullman, a Captain, Mr. Bright. Timorous Cornet, } Mr. Underhill, Whimsey, } Justices of the Peace, Mr. Trefuse, Whiff, } and very great Cowards, Mr. Bowen, Boozer, } Mr. Barns. Brag, a Captain. Grubb, One complain'd of by Capt. Whiff, for calling his Wife Whore. A Petitioner against Brag, Mr. Blunt. Parson Dunce, formerly a Farrier, fled from England, and Chaplain to the Governour, Mr. Baker. Jeffery, Coachman to Widow Ranter. Cavaro, an Indian, Confidant to the Indian King. Jack, a Sea-Boy.

Clerk; Boy; An Officer; Messenger; Seaman; 2nd Seaman; A Highlander.

WOMEN.

Indian Queen, call'd Semernia, belov'd by Bacon, Mrs. Bracegirdle. Madam Surelove, belov'd by Hazard, Mrs. Knight. Mrs. Chrisante, Daughter to Colonel Downright, Mrs. Jordan. Widow Ranter, in love with Daring, Mrs. Currer. Mrs. Flirt, a Tapstress, Mrs. Cory. Mrs. Whimsey. Mrs. Whiff. Jenny, Maid to Widow Ranter. Nell, Maid at the Inn. Anaria, Confidante to the Indian Queen. Maid to Madam Surelove.

Priests, Indians, Bailiffs, Soldiers, Rabble, Negroes, with other Attendants.

SCENE, Virginia: in Bacon's Camp, James-Town and the surrounding Country.



ACT I.

SCENE I. A Room with several Tables.

Enter Hazard in a travelling Habit, and Jack, a Sea-Boy, carrying his Portmantle.

Haz. What Town's this, Boy?

Boy. James-Town, Master.

Haz. Take care my Trunk be brought ashore to night, and there's for your Pains.

Boy. God bless you, Master.

Haz. What do you call this House?

Boy. Mrs. Flirt's, Master, the best House for Commendation in all Virginia.

Haz. That's well, has she any handsome Ladies, Sirrah?

Boy. Oh! she's woundy handsome her self, Master, and the kindest Gentlewoman—look, here she comes, Master.—

Enter Flirt and Nell.

God bless you, Mistress, I have brought you a young Gentleman here.

Flirt. That's well, honest Jack.—Sir, you are most heartily welcome.

Haz. Madam, your Servant. [Salutes her.

Flirt. Please you walk into a Chamber, Sir?

Haz. By and by, Madam; but I'll repose here awhile for the coolness of the Air.

Flirt. This is a Publick Room, Sir, but 'tis at your service.

Haz. Madam, you oblige me.

Flirt. A fine spoken Person. A Gentleman, I'll warrant him: come, Jack, I'll give thee a Cogue of Brandy for old acquaintance.

[Exeunt Landlady and Boy. [Hazard pulls out Pen, Ink and Paper, and goes to write.

Enter Friendly.

Friend. Here, Nell, a Tankard of cool Drink, quickly.

Nell. You shall have it, Sir.

Friend. Hah! who's that Stranger? he seems to be a Gentleman.

Haz. If I should give credit to mine Eyes, that should be Friendly.

Friend. Sir, you seem a Stranger; may I take the liberty to present my Service to you? [Exit Nell.

Haz. If I am not mistaken, Sir, you are the only Man in the World whom I would soonest pledge; you'll credit me, if three Year's absence has not made you forget Hazard.

Friend. Hazard, my Friend! come to my Arms and Heart.

Haz. This unexpected Happiness o'erjoys me. Who could have imagin'd to have found thee in Virginia? I thought thou hadst been in Spain with thy Brother.

Friend. I was so till ten Months since, when my Uncle Colonel Friendly dying here, left me a considerable Plantation; and, faith, I find Diversions not altogether to be despis'd; the God of Love reigns here with as much power as in Courts or popular Cities. But prithee what Chance (fortunate to me) drove thee to this part of the new World.

Haz. Why, faith, ill Company, and that common Vice of the Town, Gaming, soon run out my younger Brother's Fortune: for imagining, like some of the luckier Gamesters, to improve my Stock at the Groom Porter's, I ventur'd on, and lost all. My elder Brother, an errant Jew, had neither Friendship nor Honour enough to support me; but at last being mollified by Persuasions, and the hopes of being for ever rid of me, sent me hither with a small Cargo to seek my Fortune—

Friend. And begin the World withal.

Haz. I thought this a better Venture than to turn sharping Bully, Cully in Prentices and Country Squires, with my Pocket full of false Dice, your high and low Flats and Bars; or turn Broker to young Heirs; take up Goods to pay tenfold at the Death of their Fathers, and take Fees on both sides; or set up all night at the Groom-Porter's, begging his Honour to go a Guinea the better of the lay. No, Friendly, I had rather starve abroad, than live pity'd and despis'd at home.

Friend. Thou art in the right, and art come just in the nick of time to make thy Fortune.—Wilt thou follow my Advice?

Haz. Thou art too honest to command any thing that I shall refuse.

Friend. You must know then, there is about a Mile from James-Town a young Gentlewoman—no matter for her Birth, her Breeding's the best this World affords, she is married to one of the richest Merchants here; he is old and sick, and now gone into England for the recovery of his Health, where he'll e'en give up the Ghost: he has writ her word he finds no Amendment, and resolves to stay another Year. The letter I accidentally took up, and have about me; 'tis easily counterfeited, and will be of great use to us.

Haz. Now do I fancy I conceive thee.

Friend. Well, hear me first, you shall get another Letter writ like this Character, which shall say, you are his Kinsman, that is come to traffick in this Country, and 'tis his will you should be received into his House as such.

Haz. Well, and what will come of this?

Friend. Why, thou art young and handsome, she young and desiring; 'twere easy to make her love thee; and if the old Gentleman chance to die, you guess the rest, you are no Fool.

Haz. Ay, but if he shou'd return—

Friend. If—Why, if she love you, that other will be but a slender Bar to thy Happiness; for if thou canst not marry her, thou mayst lie with her: and, Gad, a younger Brother may pick out a pretty Livelihood here that way, as well as in England. Or if this fail, thou wilt find a perpetual Visiter, the Widow Ranter, a Woman bought from the ship by old Colonel Ranter; she served him half a Year, and then he marry'd her, and dying in a Year more, left her worth fifty thousand Pounds Sterling, besides Plate and Jewels: She's a great Gallant, but assuming the humour of the Country Gentry, her Extravagancy is very pleasant, she retains something of her primitive Quality still, but is good-natur'd and generous.

Haz. I like all this well.

Friend. But I have a further End in this matter; you must know there is in the same House a young Heiress, one Colonel Downright's Daughter, whom I love, I think not in vain: her Father indeed has an implacable Hatred to me, for which reason I can but seldom visit her, and in this Affair I have need of a Friend in that House.

Haz. Me you're sure of.

Friend. And thus you'll have an opportunity to manage both our Amours: Here you will find occasion to shew your Courage, as well as express your Love; for at this time the Indians, by our ill Management of Trade, whom we have armed against our selves, very frequently make War upon us with our own Weapons; though often coming by the worst, they are forced to make Peace with us again, but so, as upon every turn they fall to massacring us wherever we lie exposed to them.

Haz. I heard the News of this in England, which hastens the new Governour's arrival here, who brings you fresh Supplies.

Friend. Would he were landed, we hear he is a noble Gentleman.

Haz. He has all the Qualities of a Gallant Man: besides, he is nobly born.

Friend. This Country wants nothing but to be peopled with a well-born Race, to make it one of the best Colonies in the World; but for want of a Governour we are ruled by a Council, some of whom have been perhaps transported Criminals, who having acquired great Estates, are now become your Honour and Right Worshipful, and possess all Places of Authority; there are amongst them some honest Gentlemen, who now begin to take upon 'em, and manage Affairs as they ought to be.

Haz. Bacon I think was one of the Council.

Friend. Now you have named a Man indeed above the common Rank, by Nature generous, brave, resolv'd and daring; who studying the Lives of the Romans and great Men, that have raised themselves to the most elevated Fortunes, fancies it easy for ambitious Men to aim at any pitch of Glory. I've heard him often say, Why cannot I conquer the Universe as well as Alexander? or like another Romulus, form a new Rome, and make my self ador'd?

Haz. Why might he not? Great Souls are born in common Men sometimes, as well as Princes.

Friend. This Thirst of Glory cherish'd by sullen Melancholy, I believe, was the first motive that made him in love with the young Indian Queen, fancying no Hero ought to be without his Princess. And this was the reason why he so earnestly press'd for a Commission, to be made General against the Indians, which long was promis'd him; but they fearing his Ambition, still put him off, till the Grievances grew so high, that the whole Country flock'd to him, and beg'd he would redress them.—He took the opportunity, and led them forth to fight, and vanquishing brought the Enemy to fair Terms; but now instead of receiving him as a Conqueror, we treat him as a Traitor.

Haz. Then it seems all the Crime this brave Fellow has committed, is serving his Country without Authority.

Friend. 'Tis so, and however I admire the Man, I am resolv'd to be of the contrary Party, that I may make an Interest in our new Governor. Thus stand Affairs, so that after you have seen Madam Surelove, I'll present you to the Council for a Commission.

Haz. But my Kinsman's Character—

Friend. He was a Leicestershire younger Brother, came over with a small Fortune, which his Industry has increas'd to a thousand Pounds a year; and he is now Colonel John Surelove, and one of the Council.

Haz. Enough.

Friend. About it then, Madam Flirt to direct you.

Haz. You are full of your Madams here.

Friend. Oh! 'tis the greatest Affront imaginable to call a Woman Mistress, though but a retail Brandy-monger. Adieu.—One thing more, to morrow is our Country-Court, pray do not fail to be there, for the rarity of the Entertainment: but I shall see you anon at Surelove's, where I'll salute thee as my first meeting, and as an old Acquaintance in England—here's Company, farewel. [Exit Friend.

Enter Dullman, Timorous and Boozer. Hazard sits at a Table and writes.

Dull. Here, Nell—Well, Lieutenant Boozer, what are you for?

Enter Nell.

Booz. I am for cooling Nants, Major.

Dull. Here, Nell, a Quart of Nants, and some Pipes and Smoke.

Tim. And do ye hear, Nell, bid your Mistress come in to joke a little with us; for, adzoors, I was damnable drunk last Night, and I am better at the Petticoat than the Bottle to day. [Exit Nell.

Dull. Drunk last Night, and sick to Day! how comes that about, Mr. Justice? you use to bear your Brandy well enough.

Tim. Ay, your shier Brandy I'll grant you; but I was drunk at Col. Downright's with your high Burgundy Claret.

Dull. A Pox of that paulter Liquor, your English French Wine, I wonder how the Gentlemen do to drink it.

Tim. Ay, so do I, 'tis for want of a little Virginia Breeding: how much more like a Gentleman 'tis, to drink as we do, brave edifying Punch and Brandy.—But they say, the young Noblemen now, and Sparks in England, begin to reform, and take it for their Mornings draught, get drunk by Noon, and despise the lousy Juice of the Grape.

Enter Mrs. Flirt, and Nell, with drink, pipes, etc.

Dull. Come, Landlady, come, you are so taken up with Parson Dunce, that your old Friends can't drink a Dram with you.—What, no smutty Catch now, no Gibe or Joke to make the Punch go down merrily, and advance Trading? Nay, they say, Gad forgive ye, you never miss going to Church when Mr. Dunce preaches,—but here's to you. [Drinks.

Flirt. Lords, your Honours are pleas'd to be merry— but my service to your Honour. [Drinks.

Haz. Honours! who the Devil have we here? some of the wise Council at least, I'd sooner take 'em for Hoggerds. [Aside.

Flirt. Say what you please of the Doctor, but I'll swear he's a fine Gentleman, he makes the prettiest Sonnets, nay, and sings 'em himself to the rarest Tunes.

Tim. Nay, the Man will serve for both Soul and Body; for they say he was a Farrier in England, but breaking, turn'd Life-guard-man, and his Horse dying, he counterfeited a Deputation from the Bishop, and came over here a substantial Orthodox. But come, where stands the Cup? Here, my service to you, Major.

Flirt. Your Honours are pleased,—but methinks Doctor Dunce is a very edifying Person, and a Gentleman, and I pretend to know a Gentleman; for I my self am a Gentlewoman: my Father was a Baronet, but undone in the late Rebellion, and I am fain to keep an Ordinary now, Heaven help me.

Tim. Good lack, why, see how Virtue may be bely'd. We heard your Father was a Taylor, but trusting for old Oliver's Funeral broke, and so came hither to hide his Head.—But my service to you; what, you are never the worse?

Flirt. Your Honour knows this is a scandalous place, for they say your Honour was but a broken Excise-Man, who spent the King's Money to buy your Wife fine Petticoats; and at last not worth a Groat, you came over a poor Servant, though now a Justice of the Peace, and of the Honourable Council.

Tim. Adz zoors, if I knew who 'twas said so, I'd sue him for Scandalum Magnatum.

Dull. Hang 'em, Scoundrels, hang 'em, they live upon Scandal, and we are Scandal-proof.—They say too, that I was a Tinker, and running the Country, robb'd a Gentleman's House there, was put into Newgate, got a Reprieve after Condemnation, and was transported hither; —and that you, Boozer, was a common Pick-pocket, and being often flogg'd at the Carts-tale, afterwards turn'd Evidence, and when the Times grew honest was fain to flie.

Booz. Ay, ay, Major, if Scandal would have broke our Hearts, we had not arriv'd to the Honour of being Privy-Counsellors.—But come, Mrs. Flirt, what, never a Song to entertain us?

Flirt. Yes, and a Singer too newly come ashore.

Tim. Adz zoors, let's have it then.

Enter a Girl who sings, they bear the Bob.

Haz. Here, Maid, a Tankard of your Drink.

Flirt. Quickly, Nell, wait upon the Gentleman.

Dull. Please you, Sir, to taste of our Liquor.—My service to you. I see you are a Stranger, and alone; please you to come to our Table? [He rises and comes.

Flirt. Come, Sir, pray sit down here; these are very honourable Persons, I assure you: This is Major Dullman, Major of his Excellency's own Regiment, when he arrives; this Mr. Timorous, Justice a Peace in Corum; this Captain Boozer, all of the honourable Council.

Haz. With your leave, Gentlemen. [Sits.

Tim. My service to you, Sir. [Drinks. What, have you brought over any Cargo, Sir? I'll be your Customer.

Booz. Ay, and cheat him too, I'll warrant him. [Aside.

Haz. I was not bred to Merchandizing, Sir, nor do intend to follow the drudgery of Trading.

Dull. Men of Fortune seldom travel hither, Sir, to see Fashions.

Tim. Why, Brother, it may be the Gentleman has a mind to be a Planter; will you hire your self to make a Crop of Tobacco this Year?

Haz. I was not born to work, Sir.

Tim. Not work, Sir! Zoors, your Betters have workt, Sir. I have workt my self, Sir, both set and stript Tobacco, for all I am of the honourable Council. Not work, quoth a!—I suppose, Sir, you wear your Fortune upon your Back, Sir?

Haz. Is it your Custom here, Sir, to affront Strangers? I shall expect Satisfaction. [Rises.

Tim. Why, does any body here owe you any thing?

Dull. No, unless he means to be paid for drinking with us,—ha, ha, ha.

Haz. No, Sir, I have money to pay for what I drink: here's my Club, my Guinea, [Flings down a Guinea. I scorn to be oblig'd to such Scoundrels.

Booz. Hum—call Men of Honour Scoundrels. [Rise in huff.

Tim. Let him alone, let him alone, Brother; how should he learn Manners? he never was in Virginia before.

Dull. He's some Covent-Garden Bully.

Tim. Or some broken Citizen turned Factor.

Haz. Sir, you lye, and you are a Rascal. [Flings the Brandy in his Face.

Tim. Adz zoors, he has spil'd all the Brandy. [Tim. runs behind the Door, Dull, and Booz. strike Hazard.

Haz. I understand no Cudgel-play, but wear a Sword to right myself. [Draws, they run off.

Flirt. Good Heavens! what, quarelling in my House?

Haz. Do the Persons of Quality in this Country treat Strangers thus?

Flirt. Alas, Sir, 'tis a familiar way they have, Sir.

Haz. I'm glad I know it.—Pray, Madam, can you inform one how I may be furnish'd with a Horse and a Guide to Madam Surelove's?

Flirt. A most accomplish'd Lady, and my very good Friend, you shall be immediately—

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. The Council-Table.

Enter Wellman, Downright, Dunce, Whimsey, Whiff, and others.

Well. Come, Mr. Dunce, though you are no Counsellor, yet your Counsel may be good in time of Necessity, as now.

Dun. If I may give worthy Advice, I do not look upon our Danger to be so great from the Indians, as from young Bacon, whom the People have nick-nam'd Fright-all.

Whim. Ay, ay, that same Bacon, I would he were well hang'd: I am afraid that under pretence of killing all the Indians he means to murder us, lie with our Wives, and hang up our little Children, and make himself Lord and King.

Whiff. Brother Whimsey, not so hot; with leave of the honourable Board, my Wife is of opinion, that Bacon came seasonably to our Aid, and what he has done was for our Defence, the Indians came down upon us, and ravish'd us all, Men, Women, and Children.

Well. If these Grievances were not redrest, we had our Reasons for it; it was not that we were insensible, Captain Whiff, of what we suffer'd from the Insolence of the Indians; but all knew what we must expect from Bacon, if that by lawful Authority he had arrived to so great a Command as General; nor would we be hufft out of our Commissions.

Down. 'Tis most certain that Bacon did not demand a Commission out of a design of serving us, but to satisfy his Ambition and his Love; it being no secret that he passionately admires the Indian Queen, and under the pretext of a War, intends to kill the King her Husband, establish himself in her Heart, and on all occasions make himself a more formidable Enemy than the Indians are.

Whim. Nay, nay, I ever foresaw he would prove a Villain.

Whiff. Nay, and he be thereabout, my Nancy shall have no more to do with him.

Well. But, Gentlemen, the People daily flock to him, so that his Army is too considerable for us to oppose by any thing but Policy.

Down. We are sensible, Gentlemen, that our Fortunes, our Honours, and our Lives are at stake; and therefore you are call'd together to consult what's to be done in this Grand Affair, till our Governour and Forces arrive from England: the Truce he made with the Indians will be out to morrow.

Whiff. Ay, and then he intends to have another bout with the Indians. Let's have patience, I say, till he has thrumb'd their Jackets, and then to work with your Politicks as soon as you please.

Down. Colonel Wellman has answer'd that point, good Captain Whiff; 'tis the Event of this Battel we ought to dread; and if won or lost, will be equally fatal for us, either from the Indians or from Bacon.

Dun. With the Permission of the honourable Board, I think I have hit upon an Expedient that may prevent this Battel: your Honours shall write a Letter to Bacon, where you shall acknowledge his Services, invite him kindly home, and offer him a Commission for General—

Whiff. Just my Nancy's Counsel—Dr. Dunce has spoken like a Cherubin, he shall have my Voice for General; what say you, Brother Whimsey?

Down. I say he is a Noble Fellow, and fit for a General.

Dun. But conceive me right, Gentlemen; as soon as he shall have render'd himself, seize him, and strike off his Head at the Fort.

Whiff. Hum! his Head—Brother.

Whim. Ay, ay, Dr. Dunce speaks like a Cherubin.

Well. Mr. Dunce, your Counsel in extremity, I confess, is not amiss; but I should be loth to deal dishonourably with any Man.

Down. His Crimes deserve Death, his Life is forfeited by Law, but shall never be taken by my consent by Treachery: If by any Stratagem we could take him alive, and either send him for England to receive there his Punishment, or keep him Prisoner here till the Governour arrive, I should agree to it; but I question his coming in upon our Invitation.

Dun. Leave that to me.

Whim. Come, I'll warrant him, the Rogue's as stout as Hector, he fears neither Heaven nor Hell.

Down. He's too brave and bold to refuse our Summons, and I am for sending him for England, and leaving him to the King's Mercy.

Dun. In that you'll find more difficulty, Sir; to take him off here will be more quick and sudden: for the People worship him.

Well. I'll never yield to so ungenerous an Expedient. The seizing him I am content in the Extremity wherein we are to follow. What say you, Colonel Downright? shall we send him a Letter now, while this two days Truce lasts, between him and the Indians?

Down. I approve it.

All. And I, and I, and I.

Dun. If your Honours please to make me the Messenger, I'll use some Arguments of my own to prevail with him.

Well. You say well, Mr. Dunce, and we'll dispatch you presently.

[Ex. Well. Down. and all but Whim. Whiff. and Dunce.

Whiff. Ah, Doctor, if you could but have persuaded Colonel Wellman and Colonel Downright to have hanged him—

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?

Ran. Rather that he should love no body's Body besides my own; but my fortune is too good to trust the Rogue, my Money makes me an Infidel.

Chris. You think they all love you for that.

Ran. For that, ay, what else? if it were not for that, I might sit still and sigh, and cry out, a Miracle! a Miracle! at sight of a Man within my Doors.

Enter Maid.

Maid. Madam, here's a young Gentleman without wou'd speak with you.

Sure. With me? sure thou'rt mistaken; is it not Friendly?

Maid. No, Madam, 'tis a Stranger.

Ran. 'Tis not Daring, that Rogue, is it?

Maid. No, Madam.

Ran. Is he handsome? does he look like a Gentleman?

Maid. He's handsome, and seems a Gentleman.

Ran. Bring him in then, I hate a Conversation without a Fellow,—hah,—a good handsome Lad indeed.

Enter Hazard with a Letter.

Sure. With me, Sir, would you speak?

Haz. If you are Madam Surelove.

Sure. So I am call'd.

Haz. Madam, I am newly arriv'd from England, and from your Husband my Kinsman bring you this.— [Gives a Letter.

Ran. Please you to sit, Sir.

Haz. She's extremely handsome. [Aside—sits down.

Ran. Come, Sir, will you smoke a Pipe?

Haz. I never do, Madam.

Ran. Oh, fie upon't, you must learn then, we all smoke here, 'tis a part of good Breeding.—Well, well, what Cargo, what Goods have ye? any Points, Lace, rich Stuffs, Jewels; if you have, I'll be your Chafferer, I live hard by, any body will direct you to the Widow Ranter's.

Haz. I have already heard of you, Madam.

Ran. What, you are like all the young Fellows, the first thing they do when they come to a strange Place, is to enquire what Fortunes there are.

Haz. Madam, I had no such Ambition.

Ran. Gad, then you're a Fool, Sir; but come, my service to you; we rich Widows are the best Commodity this Country affords, I'll tell you that. [This while Sure. reads the Letter.

Sure. Sir, my Husband has recommended you here in a most particular manner, by which I do not only find the esteem he has for you, but the desire he has of gaining you mine, which on a double score I render you, first for his sake, next for those Merits that appear in your self.

Haz. Madam, the endeavours of my Life shall be to express my Gratitude for this great Bounty.

Enter Maid.

Maid. Madam, Mr. Friendly's here.

Sure. Bring him in.

Haz. Friendly!—I had a dear Friend of that name, who I hear is in these Parts.—Pray Heaven it may be he.

Ran. How now, Charles.

Enter Friendly.

Friend. Madam, your Servant—Hah! should not I know you for my dear friend Hazard. [Embracing him.

Haz. Or you're to blame, my Friendly.

Friend. Prithee what calm brought thee ashore?

Haz. Fortune de la guerre, but prithee ask me no Questions in so good Company, where a Minute lost from this Conversation is a Misfortune not to be retriev'd.

Friend. Dost like her, Rogue— [Softly aside.

Haz. Like her! have I sight, or sense?—Why, I adore her.

Friend. Mrs. Chrisante, I heard your Father would not be here to day, which made me snatch this opportunity of seeing you.

Ran. Come, come, a Pox of this whining Love, it spoils good Company.

Friend. You know, my dear Friend, these Opportunities come but seldom, and therefore I must make use of them.

Ran. Come, come, I'll give you a better Opportunity at my House to morrow, we are to eat a Buffalo there, and I'll secure the old Gentleman from coming.

Friend. Then I shall see Chrisante once more before I go.

Chris. Go—Heavens—whither, my Friendly?

Friend. I have received a Commission to go against the Indians, Bacon being sent for home.

Ran. But will he come when sent for?

Friend. If he refuse we are to endeavour to force him.

Chris. I do not think he will be forc'd, not even by Friendly.

Friend. And, faith, it goes against my Conscience to lift my Sword against him, for he is truly brave, and what he has done, a Service to the Country, had it but been by Authority.

Chris. What pity 'tis there should be such false Maxims in the World, that noble Actions, however great, must be criminal for want of a Law to authorise 'em.

Friend. Indeed 'tis pity that when Laws are faulty they should not be mended or abolish'd.

Ran. Hark ye, Charles, by Heaven, if you kill my Daring I'll pistol you.

Friend. No, Widow, I'll spare him for your sake. [They join with Surelove.

Haz. Oh, she's all divine, and all the Breath she utters serves but to blow my Flame.

Enter Maid.

Maid. Madam, Dinner's on the Table—

Sure. Please you, Sir, to walk in—come, Mr. Friendly. [She takes Hazard.

Ran. Prithee, good Wench, bring in the Punch-Bowl.

[Exeunt.



ACT II.

SCENE I. A Pavilion.

Discovers the _Indian King_ and _Queen_ sitting in State, with Guards of _Indians_, Men and Women attending: To them _Bacon_ richly dress'd, attended by _Daring_, _Fearless_ and other Officers; he bows to the _King_ and _Queen_, who rise to receive him_.

King. I am sorry, Sir, we meet upon these Terms, we who so often have embrac'd as Friends.

Bac. How charming is the Queen! [Aside.] War, Sir, is not my Business nor my Pleasure: Nor was I bred in Arms, my Country's Good has forc'd me to assume a Soldier's Life; and 'tis with much regret that I employ the first Effects of it against my Friends: yet whilst I may—whilst this Cessation lasts, I beg we may exchange those Friendships, Sir, we have so often paid in happier Peace.

King. For your part, Sir, you've been so noble, that I repent the fatal Difference that makes us meet in Arms. Yet though I'm young, I'm sensible of Injuries; and oft have heard my Grandsire say, That we were Monarchs once of all this spacious World, till you, an unknown People, landing here, distress'd and ruin'd by destructive Storms, abusing all our charitable Hospitality, usurp'd our Right, and made your Friends your Slaves.

Bac. I will not justify the Ingratitude of my Forefathers, but finding here my Inheritance, I am resolv'd still to maintain it so, and by my Sword which first cut out my Portion, defend each Inch of Land, with my last drop of Blood.

Queen. Even his Threats have Charms that please the Heart. [Aside.

King. Come, Sir, let this ungrateful Theme alone, which is better disputed in the Field.

Queen. Is it impossible there might be wrought an understanding betwixt my Lord and you? 'Twas to that end I first desired this Truce, my self proposing to be Mediator, to which my Lord Cavernio shall agree, could you but condescend—I know you are noble: And I have heard you say our tender Sex could never plead in vain.

Bac. Alas! I dare not trust your pleading, Madam: a few soft Words from such a charming Mouth would make me lay the Conqueror at your Feet, as a Sacrifice for all the Ills he has done you.

Queen. How strangely am I pleas'd to hear him talk. [Aside.

King. Semernia, see, the Dancers do appear; Sir, will you take your Seat? [To Bacon. [He leads the Queen to a Seat, they sit and talk.

Bac. Curse on his Sports that interrupted me, my very Soul was hovering at my Lip, ready to have discover'd all its Secrets. But oh! I dread to tell her of my pain, and when I wou'd an awful trembling seizes me, and she can only from my dying Eyes read all the Sentiments of my captive Heart. [Sits down, the rest wait.

Enter Indians that dance Anticks: after the Dance the King seems in discourse with Bacon, the Queen rises and comes forth.

Queen. The more I gaze upon this English Stranger, the more Confusion struggles in my Soul: Oft I have heard of Love, and oft this Gallant Man (when Peace had made him pay his idle Visits) has told a thousand Tales of dying Maids; and ever when he spoke, my panting Heart, with a prophetick Fear in Sighs reply'd, I shall fall a Victim to his Eyes.

Enter an Indian.

Indian. Sir, here's a Messenger from the English Council desires admittance to the General. [To the King.

Bac. With your Permission he may advance. [To the King.

Re-enter Indian with Dunce. A Letter.

Dun. All Health and Happiness attend your Honour, this from the honourable Council. [Gives him a Letter.

King. I'll leave you till you have dispatch'd the Messenger, and then expect your presence in the Royal Tent.

[Exeunt King, Queen, and Indians.

Bac. Lieutenant, read the Letter. [To Daring.

Daring reads.

SIR, the necessity of what you have acted makes it pardonable, and we could wish we had done the Country and our selves so much Justice as to have given you that Commission you desired.—We now find it reasonable to raise more Forces, to oppose these Insolences, which possibly yours may be too weak to accomplish, to which end the Council is ordered to meet this Evening, and desiring you will come and take your place there, and be pleas'd to accept from us a Commission to command in Chief in this War.—Therefore send those Soldiers under your Command to their respective Houses, and haste, Sir, to your affectionate Friends—

Fear. Sir, I fear the Hearts and Pen did not agree when this was writ.

Dar. A plague upon their shallow Politicks! Do they think to play the old Game twice with us?

Bac. Away, you wrong the Council, who of themselves are honourable Gentlemen; but the base coward Fear of some of them, puts the rest on tricks that suit not with their Nature.

Dun. Sir, 'tis for noble ends you are sent for, and for your safety I'll engage my Life.

Dar. By Heaven, and so you shall;—and pay it too with all the rest of your wise-headed Council.

Bac. Your Zeal is too officious now; I see no Treachery, and can fear no Danger.

Dun. Treachery! now Heavens forbid, are we not Christians, Sir, all Friends and Countrymen? believe me, Sir, 'tis Honour calls you to increase your Fame, and he who would dissuade you is your Enemy.

Dar. Go cant, Sir, to the Rabble—for us, we know you.

Bac. You wrong me when you but suspect for me; let him that acts dishonourably fear. My innocence and my good Sword's my Guard.

Dar. If you resolve to go, we will attend you.

Bac. What, go like an invader! No, Daring, the Invitation's friendly, and as a Friend attended only by my menial Servants, I'll wait upon the Council, that they may see that when I could command it, I came an humble Suppliant for their Favour.—You may return, and tell 'em I'll attend.

Dun. I kiss your Honour's Hands— [Goes out.

Dar. 'Sdeath, will you trust the faithless Council, Sir, who have so long held you in hand with Promises, that Curse of States-men, that unlucky Vice that renders even Nobility despis'd?

Bac. Perhaps the Council thought me too aspiring, and would not add Wings to my ambitious Flight.

Dar. A pox of their considering Caps, and now they find that you can soar alone, they send for you to knip your spreading Wings. Now, by my Soul, you shall not go alone.

Bac. Forbear, lest I suspect you for a Mutineer; I am resolv'd to go.

Fear. What, and send your Army home; a pretty fetch.

Dar. By Heaven, we'll not disband, not till we see how fairly you are dealt with: If you have a Commission to be General, here we are ready to receive new Orders: If not, we'll ring them such a thundring Peal shall beat the Town about their treacherous Ears.

Bac. I do command you not to stir a Man, till you're inform'd how I am treated by 'em.—leave me, all.

[Exeunt Officers. [While Bacon reads the Letter again, to him the Indian Queen with Women waiting.

Queen. Now while my Lord's asleep in his Pavilion, I'll try my Power with the General for an Accommodation of a Peace: The very dreams of War fright my soft Slumbers that us'd to be employ'd in kinder Business.

Bac. Ha!—the Queen—what Happiness is this presents it self which all my Industry could never gain?

Queen. Sir— [Approaching him.

Bac. Prest with the great extremes of Joy and Fear, I trembling stand, unable to approach her.

Queen. I hope you will not think it Fear in me, though timorous as a Dove by nature fram'd: Nor that my Lord, whose Youth's unskill'd in War, can either doubt his Courage, or his Forces, that makes me seek a Reconciliation on any honourable Terms of Peace.

Bac. Ah Madam! if you knew how absolutely you command my Fate, I fear but little Honour would be left me, since whatsoe'er you ask me I should grant.

Queen. Indeed I would not ask your Honour, Sir, that renders you too brave in my esteem. Nor can I think that you would part with that. No, not to save your Life.

Bac. I would do more to serve your least commands than part with trivial Life.

Queen. Bless me, Sir, how came I by such a Power?

Bac. The Gods and Nature gave it you in your Creation, form'd with all the Charms that ever grac'd your Sex.

Queen. Is't possible? am I so beautiful?

Bac. As Heaven, or Angels there.

Queen. Supposing this, how can my Beauty make you so obliging?

Bac. Beauty has still a Power over great Souls, and from the moment I beheld your Eyes, my stubborn Heart melted to compliance, and from a nature rough and turbulent, grew soft and gentle as the God of Love.

Queen. The God of Love! what is the God of Love?

Bac. 'Tis a resistless Fire, that's kindled thus—at every [Takes her by the Hand and gazes on her. gaze we take from such fine Eyes, from such bashful Looks, and such soft Touches—it makes us sigh,—and pant as I do now, and stops the breath when e'er we speak of Pain.

Queen. Alas for me if this should be Love! [Aside.

Bac. It makes us tremble when we touch the fair one; and all the Blood runs shivering through the Veins, the Heart's surrounded with a feeble Languishment, the Eyes are dying, and the Cheeks are pale, the Tongue is faltring, and the Body fainting.

Queen. Then I'm undone, and all I feel is Love. [Aside. If Love be catching, Sir, by Looks and Touches, let us at distance parley—or rather let me fly, for within view is too near— [Aside.

Bac. Ah! she retires—displeas'd I fear with my presumptuous Love,—Oh, pardon, fairest Creature. [Kneels.

Queen. I'll talk no more, our Words exchange our Souls, and every Look fades all my blooming Honour, like Sun-beams on unguarded Roses—Take all our Kingdoms —make our People Slaves, and let me fall beneath your conquering Sword: but never let me hear you talk again, or gaze upon your Eyes.— [Goes out.

Bac. She loves! by Heaven, she loves! and has not Art enough to hide her Flame, though she have cruel Honour to suppress it. However, I'll pursue her to the Banquet. [Exit.

SCENE II. The Widow Ranter's Hall.

Enter Surelove fan'd by two Negroes, followed by Hazard.

Sure. This Madam Ranter is so prodigious a Treater —oh! I hate a Room that smells of a great Dinner, and what's worse, a desert of Punch and Tobacco—what! are you taking leave so soon, Cousin?

Haz. Yes, Madam, but 'tis not fit I should let you know with what regret I go,—but Business will be obey'd.

Sure. Some Letters to dispatch to English Ladies you have left behind—come, Cousin, confess.

Haz. I own I much admire the English Beauties but never yet have put their Fetters on.

Sure. Never in love! oh, then you have pleasure to come.

Haz. Rather a Pain when there's no Hope attends it.

Sure. Oh, such Diseases quickly cure themselves.

Haz. I do not wish to find it so; for even in Pain I find a Pleasure too.

Sure. You are infected then, and come abroad for Cure.

Haz. Rather to receive my Wounds, Madam.

Sure. Already, Sir,—whoe'er she be, she made good haste to conquer, we have few here boast that Dexterity.

Haz. What think you of Chrisante, Madam?

Sure. I must confess your Love and your Despair are there plac'd right, of which I am not fond of being made a Confident, since I am assur'd she can love none but Friendly. [Coldly.

Haz. Let her love on as long as Life shall last, let Friendly take her, and the Universe, so I had my next wish— [Sighs. Madam, it is yourself that I adore—I should not be so vain to tell you this, but that I know you have found the Secret out already from my Sighs.

Sure. Forbear, Sir, and know me for your Kinsman's Wife, and no more.

Haz. Be scornful as you please, rail at my Passion, and refuse to hear it; yet I'll love on, and hope in spite of you; my Flame shall be so constant and submissive, it shall compel your Heart to some return.

Sure. You're very confident of your Power, I perceive; but if you chance to find yourself mistaken, say your Opinion and your Affectation were misapply'd, and not that I was cruel. [Ex. Surelove.

Haz. Whate'er denials dwell upon your Tongue, your Eyes assure me that your Heart is tender. [Goes out.

Enter the Bagpiper, playing before a great Bowl of Punch, carry'd between two Negroes, a Highlander dancing after it; the Widow Ranter led by Timorous; Chrisante by Dullman; Mrs. Flirt and Friendly, all dancing after it; they place it on the Table.

Dull. This is like the noble Widow all over, i'faith.

Tim. Ay, ay, the Widow's Health in a full Ladle, Major. [Drinks. —But a Pox on't, what made that young Fellow here, that affronted us yesterday, Major? [While they drink about.

Dull. Some damned Sharper that would lay his Knife aboard your Widow, Cornet.

Tim. Zoors, if I thought so, I'd arrest him for Salt and Battery, lay him in Prison for a swinging Fine, and take no Bail.

Dull. Nay, had it not been before my Mistress here, Mrs. Chrisante, I had swinged him for his Yesterday's Affront;—ah, my sweet Mistress Chrisante—if you did but know what a power you have over me—

Chris. Oh, you're a great Courtier, Major.

Dull. Would I were any thing for your sake, Madam.

Ran. Thou art anything, but what thou shouldst be; prithee, Major, leave off being an old Buffoon, that is, a Lover turn'd ridiculous by Age, consider thy self a mere rouling Tun of Nantz,—a walking Chimney, ever smoaking with nasty Mundungus, and then thou hast a Countenance like an old worm-eaten Cheese.

Dull. Well, Widow, you will joke, ha, ha, ha—

Tim. Gad' Zoors, she's pure company, ha, ha—

Dull. No matter for my Countenance,—Col. Downright likes my Estate, and is resolved to have it a match.

Friend. Dear Widow, take off your damned Major, for if he speak another word to Chrisante, I shall be put past all my patience, and fall foul upon him.

Ran. S'life, not for the world—Major, I bar Love-making within my Territories, 'tis inconsistent with the Punch-Bowl, if you'l drink, do, if not, be gone.

Tim. Nay, Gad's Zooks, if you enter me at the Punch-Bowl you enter me in Politicks—well, 'tis the best Drink in Christendom for a Statesman. [They drink about, the Bagpipe playing.

Ran. Come, now you shall see what my High-land Valet can do. [A Scots Dance.

Dull. So—I see, let the World go which way it will, Widow, you are resolv'd for mirth,—but come—to the conversation of the Times.

Ran. The Times! why, what a Devil ails the Times? I see nothing in the Times but a Company of Coxcombs that fear without a Cause.

Tim. But if these Fears were laid, and Bacon were hanged, I look upon Virginia to be the happiest part of the World, gads zoors,—why, there's England—'tis nothing to't,—I was in England about six Years ago, and was shewed the Court of Aldermen, some were nodding, some saying nothing, and others very little to purpose; but how could it be otherwise, for they had neither Bowl of Punch, Bottles of Wine or Tobacco before 'em, to put Life and Soul into 'em as we have here: then for the young Gentlemen—their farthest Travels is to France or Italy, they never come hither.

Dull. The more's the pity, by my troth. [Drinks.

Tim. Where they learn to swear Mor-blew, Mor-dee—

Friend. And tell you how much bigger the Louvre is than Whitehall; buy a suit a-la-mode, get a swinging Clap of some French Marquise, spend all their Money, and return just as they went.

Dull. For the old Fellows, their business is Usury, Extortion, and undermining young Heirs.

Tim. Then for young Merchants, their Exchange is the Tavern, their Ware-house the Play-house, and their Bills of Exchange Billet-Douxs, where to sup with their Wenches at the other end of the Town,—now judge you what a condition poor England is in: for my part I look upon it as a lost Nation, gads zoors.

Dull. I have considered it, and have found a way to save all yet.

Tim. As how, I pray?

Dull. As thus: we have Men here of great Experience and Ability—now I would have as many sent into England, as would supply all Places and Offices, both Civil and Military, d'ye see; their young Gentry should all travel hither for breeding, and to learn the mysteries of State.

Friend. As for the old covetous Fellows, I would have the Tradesmen get in their Debts, break and turn Troopers.

Tim. And they'd be soon weary of Extortion, gad zoors.

Dull. Then for the young Merchants, there should be a Law made, none should go beyond Ludgate.

Friend. You have found out the only way to preserve that great Kingdom. [Drinking all this while sometimes.

Tim. Well, gad zoors, 'tis a fine thing to be a good Statesman.

Friend. Ay, Cornet, which you had never been had you staid in Old England.

Dull. Why, Sir, we were somebody in England.

Friend. So I heard, Major.

Dull. You heard, Sir! what have you heard? he's a Kidnapper that says he heard any thing of me—and so my service to you.—I'll sue you, Sir, for spoiling my Marriage here by your Scandals with Mrs. Chrisante: but that shan't do, Sir, I'll marry her for all that, and he's a Rascal that denies it.

Friend. S'death, you lye, Sir—I do.

Tim. Gad zoors, Sir, lye to a Privy-Counsellor, a Major of Horse! Brother, this is an Affront to our Dignities: draw and I'll side with you. [They both draw on Friendly, the Ladies run off.

Friend. If I disdain to draw, 'tis not that I fear your base and cowardly Force, but for the respect I bear you as Magistrates, and so I leave you. [Goes out.

Tim. An arrant Coward, gad zoors.

Dull. A mere Paultroon, and I scorn to drink in his Company.

[Exeunt, putting up their Swords.

SCENE III. A Sevana, or large Heath.

Enter Whimsey, Whiff, and Boozer, with some Soldiers arm'd.

Whim. Stand—stand—and hear the word of Command—do ye see yon Cops, and that Ditch that runs along Major Dullman's Plantation?

Booz. We do.

Whim. Place your Men there, and lie flat on your Bellies, and when Bacon comes, (if alone) seize him, d'ye see.

Whiff. Observe the Command now (if alone) for we are not for blood-shed.

Booz. I'll warrant you for our parts.

[Exeunt all but Whim. and Whiff.

Whim. Now we have ambusht our Men, let's light our Pipes, and sit down and take an encouraging dram of the Bottle. [Pulls a Bottle of Brandy out of his Pocket—they sit.

Whiff. Thou art a Knave, and hast emptied half the Bottle in thy Leathern Pockets; but come, here's young Frightall's Health.

Whim. What, wilt drink a Man's Health thou'rt going to hang?

Whiff. 'Tis all one for that, we'll drink his Health first, and hang him afterwards, and thou shalt pledge me, d'ye see, and though 'twere under the Gallows.

Whim. Thou'rt a Traitor for saying so, and I defy thee.

Whiff. Nay, since we are come out like loving Brothers to hang the General, let's not fall out among our selves; and so here's to you, [Drinks.] though I have no great Maw to this Business.

Whim. Prithee, Brother Whiff, do not be so villainous a Coward, for I hate a Coward.

Whiff. Nay, 'tis not that—but, my Whiff, my Nancy dreamt to night she saw me hanged.

Whim. 'Twas a cowardly Dream, think no more on't; but as Dreams are expounded by contraries, thou shalt hang the General.

Whiff. Ay—but he was my Friend, and I owe him at this time a hundred Pounds of Tobacco.

Whim. Nay, then I am sure thou'dst hang him if he were thy Brother.

Whiff. But hark—I think I hear the Neighing of Horses, where shall we hide our selves? for if we stay here, we shall be mawled damnably.

[Exeunt both behind a Bush, peeping.

Enter Bacon, Fearless, and 3 or 4 Footmen.

Bac. Let the Groom lead the Horses o'er the Sevana; we'll walk it on Foot, 'tis not a quarter of a Mile to the Town; and here the Air is cool.

Fear. The Breezes about this time of the Day begin to take wing, and fan refreshment to the Trees and Flowers.

Bac. And at these Hours how fragrant are the Groves!

Fear. The Country's well, were but the people so.

Bac. But come, lets on— [They pass to the Entrance.

Whim. There, Boys— [The Soldiers come forth and fall on Bacon.

Bac. Hah! Ambush—

[Draws, Fearless and Footmen draw, the Soldiers after a while fighting, take Bacon and Fearless, they having laid 3 or 4 dead.

Whiff. So, so, he's taken; now we may venture out.

Whim. But are you sure he's taken?

Whiff. Sure! can't you believe your Eyes, come forth; I hate a Coward—Oh, Sir, have we caught your Mightiness.

Bac. Are you the Authors of this valiant Act? None but such villainous Cowards durst have attempted it.

Whim. Stop his railing Tongue.

Whiff. No, no, let him rail, let him rail now his Hands are ty'd, ha, ha. Why, good General Frightall, what, was no body able d'ye think to tame the roaring Lyon?

Bac. You'll be hanged for this.

Whim. Come, come, away with him to the next Tree.

Bac. What mean you, Villains?

Whiff. Only to hang your Honour a little, that's all. We'll teach you, Sir, to serve your Country against Law.

As they go off, enter Daring with Soldiers.

Dar. Hah—my General betray'd!—this I suspected.

[His Men come in, they fall on, release Bacon and Fearless, and his Man, and get Swords. Whimsey's Party put Whim. and Whiff before 'em striking 'em as they endeavour to run on this side or that, and forcing 'em to bear up, they are taken after some fighting.

Fear. Did not the General tell you Rogues, you'd be all hang'd?

Whiff. Oh, Nancy, Nancy, how prophetick are thy Dreams!

Bac. Come, lets on—

Dar. S'death, what mean you, Sir?

Bac. As I designed—to present my self to the Council.

Dar. By Heavens, we'll follow then to save you from their Treachery, 'twas this that has befallen you that I feared, which made me at a distance follow you.