Bac. ’Tis just, ye Gods! that when ye took the Prize for which I fought, Fortune and you should all abandon me.
Fear. Oh, fly, Sir, to some place of safe retreat, for there’s no mercy to be hop’d if taken. What will you do? I know we are pursu’d, by Heaven, I will not die a shameful Death.
Bac. Oh, they’ll have pity on thy Youth and Bravery, but I’m above their Pardon. A noise is heard.
Within. This way—this way—hay halloo.
Fear. Alas, Sir, we’re undone—I’ll see which way they take. Exit.
Bac. So near! Nay, then to my last shift. Undoes the Pomel of his Sword.
Come, my good Poison, like that of [Hannibal]; long I have born a noble Remedy for all the Ills of Life. Takes Poison.
I have too long surviv’d my Queen and Glory, those two bright Stars that influenc’d my Life are set to all Eternity. Lies down.
Enter Fearless, runs to Bacon, and looks on his Sword.
Fear. —Hah—what have ye done?