Queen. Now while my Lord’s asleep in his Pavilion, I’ll try my Power with the General for an Accommodation of a Peace: The very dreams of War fright my soft Slumbers that us’d to be employ’d in kinder Business.
Bac. Ha!—the Queen—what Happiness is this presents it self which all my Industry could never gain?
Queen. Sir— Approaching him.
Bac. Prest with the great extremes of Joy and Fear, I trembling stand, unable to approach her.
Queen. I hope you will not think it Fear in me, though timorous as a Dove by nature fram’d: Nor that my Lord, whose Youth’s unskill’d in War, can either doubt his Courage, or his Forces, that makes me seek a Reconciliation on any honourable Terms of Peace.
Bac. Ah Madam! if you knew how absolutely you command my Fate, I fear but little Honour would be left me, since whatsoe’er you ask me I should grant.
Queen. Indeed I would not ask your Honour, Sir, that renders you too brave in my esteem. Nor can I think that you would part with that. No, not to save your Life.
Bac. I would do more to serve your least commands than part with trivial Life.
Queen. Bless me, Sir, how came I by such a Power?
Bac. The Gods and Nature gave it you in your Creation, form’d with all the Charms that ever grac’d your Sex.