Bac. Well, Gentlemen, in order to your fine Declaration, you see I come to render my self.
Dun. How came he to know of our Declaration?
Whiff. Rogues, Rogues among our selves, that inform.
Bac. What, are ye silent all,—not a Man to lift his Hand in Obedience to the Council, to murder this Traytor that has exposed his Life so often for you? Hah, what, not for three hundred Pound?—You see I’ve left my Troops behind, and come all wearied with the Toils of War, worn out by Summers heats, and Winters cold, march’d tedious Days and Nights through Bogs and Fens as dangerous as your Clamours, and as faithless,—what though ’twas to preserve you all in Safety, no matter, you shou’d obey the grateful Council, and kill this honest Man that has defended you.
All. Hum, hum, hum.
Whiff. The General speaks like a Gorgon.
Tim. Like a Cherubin, Man.
Bac. All silent yet—where’s that mighty Courage, that cried so loud but now, A Council, a Council? where is your Resolution? cannot three hundred Pound excite your Valour to seize that Traitor Bacon who has bled for you?
All. A Bacon, a Bacon, a Bacon. Hollow.
Down. Oh villainous Cowards!—Oh the faithless Multitude!