Shows a Field of Tents, seen at some distance through the Trees of a Wood, Drums, Trumpets and the noise of Battel, with hollowing. The Indians are seen with Battel-Axes to retreat fighting from the English, and all go off; when they re-enter immediately beating back the English, the Indian King at the head of his Men, with Bows and Arrows; Daring being at the head of the English: They fight off; the Noise continues less loud as more at distance.
Enter Bacon with his Sword drawn, meets Fearless with his Sword drawn.
Fear. Haste, haste, Sir, to the Entrance of the Wood, Daring’s engaged past hope of a Retreat, venturing too far, pursuing of the Foe; the King in Ambush, with his poison’d Archers, fell on, and now we are dangerously distrest.
Bac. Daring is brave, but he’s withal too rash, come on and follow me to his Assistance— Go out.
A hollowing within, the Fight renews; enter the Indians beaten back by Bacon, Daring and Fearless; they fight off; the noise of Fighting continues a while, this still behind the Wood.
Enter Indians flying over the Stage, pursued by the King.
King. Turn, turn, ye fugitive Slaves, and face the Enemy; Oh Villains, Cowards, deaf to all Command: by Heaven, I had my Rival in my view, and aim’d at nothing but my conquering him—now like a Coward I must fly with Cowards, or like a desperate Madman fall, thus singly, midst the numbers. Follows the Indians.
Enter Bacon inraged with his Sword drawn, Fearless and Daring following him.
Bac. —Where is the King, oh ye perfidious Slaves? how, have you hid him from my just Revenge?—search all the Brakes, the Furzes and the Trees, and let him not escape on pain of Death.
Dar. We cannot do wonders, Sir.