Whim. I’m content, provided we go all to the Council, and tell them (to make our Peace) we went in obedience to the Proclamation, to kill Bacon, but the Traitor was so strongly guarded we could not effect it: but mum—who’s here?—
To them, enter Ranter and Jenny, as Man and Footman.
Ran. Hah, our four reverend Justices—I hope the Blockheads will not know me—Gentlemen, can you direct me to Lieutenant General Daring’s Tents?
Whiff. Hum, who the Devil’s this?—that’s he you see coming this way. ’Sdeath, yonder’s Daring—let’s slip away before he advances.
Exeunt all but Ran. and Jen.
Jen. I am scar’d with those dead Bodies we have pass’d over; for God’s sake, Madam, let me know your design in coming.
Ran. Why, now I tell thee—my damn’d mad Fellow Daring, who has my Heart and Soul, loves Chrisante, has stolen her, and carried her away to his Tents; she hates him, while I am dying for him.
Jem. Dying, Madam! I never saw you melancholy.
Ran. Pox on’t, no; why should I sigh and whine, and make my self an Ass, and him conceited? no, instead of snivelling I am resolved—
Jen. What, Madam?