The Works of Aphra Behn Volume Iv Part 79

_Rab._ Let's barbicu this fat Rogue.

_Bac._ Be gone, and know your distance to the Council.

[The Rabble let 'em go.

_Well._ I'd rather perish by the meanest Hand, than owe my safety poorly thus to _Bacon_.

[In Rage.

_Bac._ If you persist still in that mind I'll leave you, and conquering make you happy 'gainst your will.

[Ex. _Bacon_ and Rabble, hollowing a _Bacon_, a _Bacon_.

_Well._ Oh villanous Cowards! who will trust his Honour with Sycophants so base? Let us to Arms--by Heaven, I will not give my Body rest, till I've chastised the boldness of this Rebel.

[Exeunt _Well._ _Down._ and the rest, all but _Dull._ _Tim._ peeps from under the Table.

_Tim._ What, is the roistering Hector gone, Brother?

_Dull._ Ay, ay, and the Devil go with him.

[Looking sadly, _Tim._ comes out.

_Tim._ Was there ever such a Bull of _Bashan_! Why, what if he should come down upon us and kill us all for Traitors.

_Dull._ I rather think the Council will hang us all for Cowards--ah--oh--a Drum--a Drum--oh.

[He goes out.

_Tim._ This is the Misery of being great.

We're sacrific'd to every turn of State. [Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE I. The Country Court, a great Table, with Papers, a _Clerk writing._

Enter a great many People of all sorts, then _Friendly_, after him _Dullman_.

_Friend._ How now, Major; what, they say _Bacon_ scar'd you all out of the Council yesterday; What say the People?

_Dull._ Say? they curse us all, and drink young _Frightall's_ Health, and swear they'll fight through Fire and Brimstone for him.

_Friend._ And to morrow will hollow him to the Gallows, if it were his chance to come there.

_Dull._ 'Tis very likely: Why, I am forced to be guarded to the Court now, the Rabble swore they would _De-Wit_ me, but I shall hamper some of 'em. Wou'd the Governour were here to bear the brunt on't, for they call us the evil Counsellors.

Enter _Hazard_, goes to _Friendly_.

Here's the young Rogue that drew upon us too, we have Rods in p.i.s.s for him, i'faith.

Enter _Timorous_ with _Bailiffs_, whispers to _Dullman_, after which to the _Bailiffs_.

_Tim._ Gadzoors, that's he, do your Office.

_Bail._ We arrest you, Sir, in the King's Name, at the suit of the honourable Justice _Timorous_.

_Haz._ Justice _Timorous_! who the Devil's he?

_Tim._ I am the man, Sir, d'ye see, for want of a better; you shall repent, Guds zoors, your putting of tricks upon Persons of my Rank and Quality.

[After he has spoke, he runs back as afraid of him.

_Haz._ Your Rank and Quality!

_Tim._ Ay, Sir, my Rank and Quality; first I am one of the honourable Council, next, a Justice of Peace in _Quorum_, Cornet of a Troop of Horse, d'ye see, and Church-warden.

_Friend._ From whence proceeds this, Mr. Justice? you said nothing of this at Madam _Ranter's_ yesterday; you saw him there, then you were good Friends.

_Tim._ Ay, however I have carried my Body swimmingly before my Mistress, d'ye see, I had Rancour in my Heart, Gads zoors.

_Friend._ Why, this Gentleman's a Stranger, and but lately come ash.o.r.e.

_Haz._ At my first landing I was in company with this Fellow and two or three of his cruel Brethren, where I was affronted by them, some Words pa.s.s'd, and I drew--

_Tim._ Ay, ay, Sir, you shall pay for't,--why--what, Sir, cannot a civil Magistrate affront a Man, but he must be drawn upon presently?

_Friend._ Well, Sir, the Gentleman shall answer your Suit, and I hope you'll take my Bail for him.

_Tim._ 'Tis enough--I know you to be a civil Person.

_Timorous_ and _Dullman_ take their Places on a long Bench placed behind the Table, to them _Whimsey_ and _Whiff_, they seat themselves, then _Boozer_ and two or three more; who seat themselves: Then enter two, bearing a Bowl of Punch and a great Ladle or two in it; the rest of the Stage being fill'd with People.

_Whiff._ Brothers, it hath often been mov'd at the Bench, that a new Punch-Bowl shou'd be provided, and one of a larger Circ.u.mference; when the Bench sits late about weighty Affairs, oftentimes the Bowl is emptied before we end.

_Whim._ A good Motion; Clerk, set it down.

_Clerk._ Mr. Justice _Boozer_, the Council has order'd you a Writ of Ease, and dismiss your Worship from the Bench.

_Booz._ Me from the Bench, for what?

_Whim._ The Complaint is, Brother _Boozer_, for drinking too much Punch in the time of hearing Tryals.

_Whiff._ And that you can neither write nor read, nor say the Lord's Prayer.

_Tim._ That your Warrants are like a Brewer's Tally, a Notch on a Stick; if a special Warrant, then a couple. G.o.ds zoors, when his Excellency comes he will have no such Justices.

_Booz._ Why, Brother, though I can't read my self, I have had _Dalton's_ Country-Justice read over to me two or three times, and understand the Law. This is your Malice, Brother _Whiff_, because my Wife does not come to your Warehouse to buy her Commodities,--but no matter, to show I have no Malice in my Heart, I drink your Health.--I care not this, I can turn Lawyer, and plead at the Board.

[Drinks, all pledge him, and hum.