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.