Volume Iv Part 86 (1/2)

Enter _Whimsey_, pulling in _Whiff_, with a Halter about his Neck.

_Whim._ Nay, I'm resolved to keep thee here till his Honour the General comes.--What, to call him Traitor, and run away after he had so generously given us our freedom, and listed us Cadees for the next Command that fell in his Army--I'm resolved to hang thee--

_Whiff._ Wilt thou betray and peach thy Friend? thy Friend that kept thee Company all the while thou wert a Prisoner--drinking at my own charge--

_Whim._ No matter for that, I scorn Ingrat.i.tude, and therefore will hang thee--but as for thy drinking with me--I scorn to be behind-hand with thee in Civility, and therefore here's to thee.

[Takes a Bottle of Brandy out of his Pocket, Drinks.

_Whiff._ I can't drink.

_Whim._ A certain sign thou wo't be hang'd.

_Whiff._ You us'd to be o' my side when a Justice, let the Cause be how it wou'd.

[Weeps.

_Whim._ Ay--when I was a Justice I never minded Honesty, but now I'll be true to my General, and hang thee to be a great Man.--

_Whiff._ If I might but have a fair Trial for my Life--

_Whim._ A fair Trial!--come, I'll be thy Judge--and if thou canst clear thy self by Law, I'll acquit thee: Sirrah, Sirrah, what canst thou say for thy self for calling his Honour Rebel?

[Sits on a Drum-head.

_Whiff._ 'T was when I was drunk, an't like your Honour.

_Whim._ That's no Plea; for if you kill a Man when you are sober, you must be hanged when you are drunk. Hast thou any thing else to say for thy self why Sentence may not pa.s.s upon thee?

_Whiff._ I desire the Benefit of the Clergy.

_Whim._ The Clergy! I never knew any body that ever did benefit by 'em; why, thou canst not read a word.

_Whiff._ Transportation then--

_Whim._ It shall be to _England_ then--but hold--who's this?

[_Dullman_ creeping from a Bush.

_Dull._ So the Danger's over, I may venture out--Pox on't, I wou'd not be in this fear again, to be Lord Chief Justice of our Court. Why, how now, Cornet?--what, in dreadful Equipage? Your Battle-Ax b.l.o.o.d.y, with Bow and Arrows.

Enter _Timorous_ with Battle-Ax, Bow and Arrows, and Feathers on his Head.

_Tim._ I'm in the posture of the times, Major--I cou'd not be idle where so much Action was; I'm going to present my self to the General, with these Trophies of my Victory here--

_Dull._ Victory--what Victory--did not I see thee creeping out of yonder Bush, where thou wert hid all the Fight--stumble on a dead _Indian_, and take away his Arms?

_Tim._ Why, didst thou see me?

_Dull._ See thee, ay--and what a fright thou wert in, till thou wert sure he was dead.

_Tim._ Well, well, that's all one--Gads zoors, if every Man that pa.s.ses for valiant in a Battel, were to give an account how he gained his Reputation, the World wou'd be but thinly stock'd with Heroes; I'll say he was a great War-Captain, and that I kill'd him hand to hand, and who can disprove me?