_Dar._ Yes, when she’s drunk, and then she’ll lavish all.
_Dar._ Then such a Tongue--she’ll rail and smoke till she choke again; then six Gallons of Punch hardly recovers her, and never but then is she good-natur’d.
_Dar._ There’s not a Blockhead in the Country that has not--
_Ran._ I thought you had meant something else, Sir. [In huff.
_Dar._ Nay--as for that--I suppose there is no great difficulty.
_Ran._ ‘Sdeath, Sir, you lye--and you are a Son of a Whore. [Draws and fences with him, and he runs back round the Stage.
_Dar._ Hold--hold, Virago--dear Widow, hold, and give me thy hand.
_Dar._ ‘Sdeath, I knew thee by instinct, Widow, though I seemed not to do so, in Revenge for the Trick you put on me in telling me a Lady dy’d for me.
_Ran._ Why, such an one there is, perhaps she may dwindle forty or fifty years--or so--but will never be her own Woman again, that’s certain.
_Sure._ This we are all ready to testify, we know her.
_Dar._ Widow, I have a shreud Suspicion, that you your self may be this dying Lady.
_Dar._ Because you took such Pains to put your self into my hands.
_Ran._ Gad, if your Heart were but half so true as your Guess, we should conclude a Peace before _Bacon_ and the Council will--besides, this thing whines for _Friendly_, and there’s no hopes. [To _Chrisante_.
_Dar._ Give me thy Hand, Widow, I am thine--and so entirely, I will never--be drunk out of thy Company:--_Dunce_ is in my Tent,--prithee let’s in and bind the Bargain.
_Ran._ Nay, faith, let’s see the Wars at an end first.
_Dar._ Nay, prithee take me in the humour, while thy Breeches are on--for I never lik’d thee half so well in Petticoats.
_Ran._ Lead on, General, you give me good incouragement to wear them.
SCENE I. The _Sevana_ in sight of the Camp; the Moon rises.
Enter _Friendly_, _Hazard_ and _Boozer_, and a Party of Men.
_Friend._ We are now in sight of the Tents.
_Booz._ Is not this a rash Attempt, Gentlemen, with so small Force to set upon _Bacon’s_ whole Army?
_Haz._ Oh, they are drunk with Victory and Wine; there will be nought but revelling to night.
_Friend._ Would we could learn in what Quarter the Ladies are lodg’d, for we have no other business but to release them--But hark--who comes here?
_Booz._ Some Scouts, I fear, from the Enemy.