Queen. Twelve tedious Moons I pass’d in silent Languishment; Honour endeavouring to destroy my Love, but all in vain; for still my Pain return’d whenever I beheld my Conqueror; but now when I consider him as Murderer of my Lord— Fiercely. I sigh and wish—some other fatal Hand had given him his Death.—But now there’s a necessity, I must be brave and overcome my Heart; What if I do? ah, whither shall I fly? I have no Amazonian Fire about me, all my Artillery is Sighs and Tears, the Earth my Bed, and Heaven my Canopy. Weeps. [After Noise] of Fighting.
Hah, we are surpriz’d; Oh, whither shall I fly? And yet methinks a certain trembling Joy, spite of my Soul, spite of my boasted Honour, runs shivering round my Heart.
Enter an Indian.
Ind. Madam, your Out-guards are surpriz’d by Bacon, who hews down all before him, and demands the Queen with such a Voice, and Eyes so fierce and angry, he kills us with his Looks.
Cav. Draw up your poison’d Arrows to the head, and aim them at his Heart, sure some will hit.
Queen. Cruel Cavaro,—wou’d ’twere fit for me to contradict thy Justice. Aside.
Bac. Within. The Queen, ye Slaves, give me the Queen, and live!
He enters furiously, beating back some Indians; Cavaro’s Party going to shoot, the Queen runs in.
Queen. Hold, hold, I do command ye.
Bacon flies on ’em as they shoot and miss him, fights like a Fury, and wounds the Queen in the Disorder; beats them all out.