Bac. What, go like an invader! No, Daring, the Invitation’s friendly, and as a Friend attended only by my menial Servants, I’ll wait upon the Council, that they may see that when I could command it, I came an humble Suppliant for their Favour.—You may return, and tell ’em I’ll attend.
Dun. I kiss your Honour’s Hands— Goes out.
Dar. ’Sdeath, will you trust the faithless Council, Sir, who have so long held you in hand with Promises, that Curse of States-men, that unlucky Vice that renders even Nobility despis’d?
Bac. Perhaps the Council thought me too aspiring, and would not add Wings to my ambitious Flight.
Dar. A pox of their considering Caps, and now they find that you can soar alone, they send for you to [knip] your spreading Wings. Now, by my Soul, you shall not go alone.
Bac. Forbear, lest I suspect you for a Mutineer; I am resolv’d to go.
Fear. What, and send your Army home; a pretty fetch.
Dar. By Heaven, we’ll not disband, not till we see how fairly you are dealt with: If you have a Commission to be General, here we are ready to receive new Orders: If not, we’ll ring them such a thundring Peal shall beat the Town about their treacherous Ears.
Bac. I do command you not to stir a Man, till you’re inform’d how I am treated by ’em.—leave me, all. Exeunt Officers.
While Bacon reads the Letter again, to him the Indian Queen with Women waiting.