Honour, I never pray'd in all my Life.

_Down._ From thence drawn upon a Sledge to the place of Execution--where
you shall hang till you are dead--and then be cut down and--

_Whim._ Oh, hold--hold--we shall never be able to endure half this.
[Kneeling.

_Well._ I think the Offence needs not so great Punishment; their Crime,
Sir, is but equal to your own, acting without Commission.

_Bac._ 'Tis very well explained, Sir,--had I been murder'd by Commission
then, the Deed had been approved, and now perhaps I am beholding to the
Rabble for my Life.

_Well._ A fine Pretence to hide a popular Fault, but for this once we
pardon them and you.

_Bac._ Pardon! for what? by Heaven, I scorn your Pardon, I've not
offended Honour nor Religion.

_Well._ You have offended both in taking Arms.

_Bac._ Should I stand by and see my Country ruin'd, my King dishonour'd,
and his Subjects murder'd, hear the sad Crys of Widows and of Orphans?
you heard it loud, but gave no pitying care to't, and till the War and
Massacre was brought to my own door, my Flocks and Herds surprized,
I bore it all with Patience. Is it unlawful to defend my self against a
Thief that breaks into my Doors?

_Well._ And call you this defending of your self?

_Bac._ I call it doing of my self that right, which upon just demand the
Council did refuse me; if my Ambition, as you're pleased to call it,
made me demand too much, I left my self to you.

_Well._ Perhaps we thought it did.

_Bac._ Sir, you affront my Birth--I am a Gentleman, and yet my Thoughts
were humble--I would have fought under the meanest of your Parasites.

_Tim._ There's a Bob for us, Brother. [To _Dull._

_Bac._ But still you put me off with Promises--and when compell'd to
stir in my Defence I call'd none to my aid, and those that came, 'twas
their own Wrongs that urg'd them.

_Down._ 'Tis fear'd, Sir, under this Pretence, you aim at Government.

_Bac._ I scorn to answer to so base an Accusation; the height of my
Ambition is to be an honest Subject.

_Well._ An honest Rebel, Sir--

_Bac._ You know you wrong me, and 'tis basely urg'd--but this is
trifling--here are my Commissions.
[Throws down Papers, _Down._ reads.

_Down._ To be General of the Forces against the _Indians_, and blank
Commissions for his Friends.

_Well._ Tear them in pieces--are we to be imposed upon? Do ye come in
hostile manner to compel us?

_Down._ Be not too rough, Sir, let us argue with him.