Dar. All routed Horse and Foot; I plac’d an Ambush, and while they were pursuing you, my Men fell on behind, and won the day.
Bac. Thou almost makest me wish to live again, if I cou’d live now fair Semernia’s dead.—But oh—the baneful Drug is just and kind, and hastens me away—Now while you are Victors, make a Peace—with the English Council, and never let Ambition,—Love,—or Interest, make you forget, as I have done, your Duty and Allegiance—Farewel—a long Farewel— Dies embracing their Necks.
Dar. So fell the Roman Cassius, by mistake—
Enter Soldiers with Dunce, Tim. and Dullman.
Sold. An’t please your Honour, we took these Men running away.
Dar. Let ’em loose—the Wars are at an end, see where the General lies—that great-soul’d Man, no private Body e’er contain’d a nobler; and he that cou’d have conquered all America, finds only here his scanty length of Earth. Go, bear the Body to his own Pavilion— Soldiers go out with the Body.
though we are Conquerors we submit to treat, and yield upon Condition: You, Mr. Dunce, shall bear our Articles to the Council.
Dun. With Joy I will obey you.
Tim. Good General, let us be put in the Agreement.
Dar. You shall be obliged—
Ex. Dar. Dun. Dull. and Tim. as Fear. goes out a Soldier meets him.
Sold. What does your Honour intend to do with Whimsey and Whiff, who are condemn’d by a Council of War?
Enter Daring, Dullman, Tim. Fearless, and Officers.
Dar. You come too late, Gentlemen, to be put into the Articles; nor am I satisfy’d you’re worthy of it.
Dull. Why, did not you, Sir, see us lie dead in the Field?
Dar. Yes, but I see no Wound about you.
Tim. We were stun’d with being knock’d down; Gads zoors, a Man may be kill’d with the but-end of a Musquet, as soon as with the point of a Sword.
Enter Dunce.
Dun. The Council, Sir, wishes you Health and Happiness, and sends you these sign’d by their Hands— Gives Papers.
Dar. reads.
That you shall have a general Pardon for your self and Friends; that you shall have all new Commissions, and Daring to command as General; that you shall have free leave to inter your dead General in James Town. And to ratify this, we will meet you at Madam Surelove’s House, which stands between the Armies, attended only by our Officers.
The Council’s noble, and I’ll wait upon them.
Enter Surelove weeping, Well. Chrisante, Mrs. Flirt, Ranter as before, Down. Haz. Friend. Booz. Brag.
Well. How long, Madam, have you heard the News of Col. Surelove’s Death?
Sure. By a Vessel last Night arriv’d.
Well. You shou’d not grieve when Men so old pay their debt to Nature; you are too fair not to have been reserved for some young Lover’s Arms.
Haz. I dare not speak,—but give me leave to hope.
Sure. The way to oblige me to’t, is never more to speak to me of Love till I shall think it fit— Wellman speaks to Down.
Well. Come, you shan’t grant it—’tis a hopeful Youth.
Down. You are too much my Friend to be denied—Chrisante, do you love Friendly? nay, do not blush—till you have done a fault, your loving him is none—Here, take her, young Man, and with her all my Fortune—when I am dead, Sirrah—not a Groat before—unless to buy ye Baby-Clouts.
Friend. He merits not this Treasure, Sir, can wish for more.
Enter Daring, Fearless, Dunce, Officers, and the rest, they meet Well. and Down. who embrace ’em. Dull. and Tim. stand.
Dar. Can you forgive us, Sir, our Disobedience?
Well. Your offering Peace while yet you might command it, has made such kind impressions on us, that now you may command your Propositions; your Pardons are all seal’d and new Commissions.
Dar. I’m not ambitious of that Honour, Sir, but in obedience will accept your Goodness; but, Sir, I hear I have a young Friend taken Prisoner by Captain Hazard, whom I intreat you will render me.
Haz. Sir—here I resign him to you. Gives him Ran.
Ran. Faith, General, you left me but scurvily in Battle.
Dar. That was to see how well you cou’d shift for your self; now I find you can bear the brunt of a Campaign, you are a fit Wife for a Soldier.
All. A Woman—Ranter—
Haz. Faith, Madam, I should have given you kinder Quarter, if I had known my happiness.
Flirt. I have an humble Petition to you, Sir.
Sure. In which we all join.
Flirt. An’t please you, Sir, Mr. Dunce has long made Love to me, and on promise of Marriage has— Simpers.
Down. What has he, Mistress? What has he, Mrs. Flirt?
Flirt. Only been a little familiar with my Person, Sir—
Well. Do you hear, Parson—you must marry Mrs. Flirt.
Dun. How, Sir, a Man of my Coat, Sir, marry a Brandy-monger?
Well. Of your Calling you mean, a Farrier and no Parson— Aside to him.
She’ll leave her Trade, and spark it above all the Ladies at Church: No more—take her, and make her honest.
Enter Whim. and Whiff stript.
Chris. Bless me, what have we here?
Whim. Why, an’t like your Honours, we were taken by the Enemy—hah, Daring here, and Fearless?
Fear. How now, Gentlemen, were not you two condemn’d to be shot for running from your Colours.
Down. From your Colours!
Fear. Yes, Sir, they were both listed in my Regiment.
Down. Then we must hang them for deserting us.
Whim. So, out of the Frying Pan—you know where, Brother—
Whiff. Ay, he that’s born to be hang’d—you know the rest; a Pox of these Proverbs.
Well. I know ye well—you’re all rank Cowards; but once more we forgive ye; your Places in the Council shall be supplied by these Gentlemen of Sense and Honour. The Governor when he comes, shall find the Country in better hands than he expects to find it.
Whim. A very fair Discharge.
Whiff. I’m glad ’tis no worse, I’ll home to my Nancy.
Dull. Have we expos’d our Lives and Fortunes for this?
Tim. Gad zoors, I never thriv’d since I was a Statesman, left Planting, and fell to promising and lying; I’ll to my old Trade again, bask under the shade of my own Tobacco, and drink my Punch in Peace.
Well. Come, my brave Youths, let all our Forces meet,
To make this Country happy, rich and great;
Let scanted Europe see that we enjoy
Safer Repose, and larger Worlds, than they.
Gallants, you have so long been absent hence,
That you have almost cool’d your Diligence:
For while we study or revive a Play,
You like good Husbands in the Country stay,
|
There frugally wear out your Summer-Suit, And in Frize Jerkin after Beagles toot, Or in Mountero Caps at Fel-fares shoot: |
Nay, some are so obdurate in their Sin,
That they swear never to come up again;
But all their charge of Clothes and Treat retrench.
To Gloves and Stockings for some Country-Wench.
Even they who in the Summer had Mishaps,
Send up to Town for Physick, for their Claps.
|
The Ladies too, are as resolv’d as they, And having Debts unknown to them, they stay, And with the gain of Cheese and Poultry pay. |
Even in their Visits, they from Banquets fall,
To entertain with Nuts and Bottle-Ale;
And in Discourse with secrecy report
Stale News that past a Twelve-month since at Court.
Those of them who are most refin’d and gay,
Now learn the Songs of the last Summer’s Play:
While the young Daughter does in private mourn
Her Love’s in Town, and hopes not to return.
These Country-Grievances too great appear;
But, cruel Ladies, we have greater here;
You come not sharp, as you were wont, to Plays;
But only on the first and second Days:
This made our Poet in his Visits look
What new strange Courses for your Time you took;
And to his great regret he found too soon,
Basset and Ombre spent the Afternoon:
So that we cannot hope to see you here
Before the little Net-work Purse be clear.
Suppose you should have luck:—
Yet sitting up so late as I am told,
You’ll lose in Beauty what you win in Gold;
And what each Lady of another says,
Will make you new Lampoons, and us new Plays.