Whim. Thou’rt a Traitor for saying so, and I defy thee.
Whiff. Nay, since we are come out like loving Brothers to hang the General, let’s not fall out among our selves; and so here’s to you, [Drinks.] though I have no great Maw to this Business.
Whim. Prithee, Brother Whiff, do not be so villainous a Coward, for I hate a Coward.
Whiff. Nay, ’tis not that—but, my Whiff, my Nancy dreamt to night she saw me hanged.
Whim. ’Twas a cowardly Dream, think no more on’t; but as Dreams are expounded by contraries, thou shalt hang the General.
Whiff. Ay—but he was my Friend, and I owe him at this time a hundred Pounds of Tobacco.
Whim. Nay, then I am sure thou’dst hang him if he were thy Brother.
Whiff. But hark—I think I hear the Neighing of Horses, where shall we hide our selves? for if we stay here, we shall be mawled damnably. Exeunt both behind a Bush, peeping.
Enter Bacon, Fearless, and 3 or 4 Footmen.
Bac. Let the Groom lead the Horses o’er the Sevana; we’ll walk it on Foot, ’tis not a quarter of a Mile to the Town; and here the Air is cool.