_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. _Bac._ But you can run away.-- _Dar._ Yes, when we see occasion--yet--shou’d any but my General tell me so--by Heaven, he should find I were no starter. _Bac._ Forgive me, I’m mad--the King’s escaped, hid like a trembling Slave in some close Ditch, where he will sooner starve than fight it out. Re-enter _Indians_ running over the Stage, pursued by the _King_, who shoots them as they fly; some few follow him. _King._ All’s lost--the Day is lost--and I’m betray’d;--Oh Slaves, that even Wounds can’t animate. [In Rage. _Bac._ The King! _King._ The General here! by all the Powers, betray’d by my own Men! _Bac._ Abandon’d as thou art, I scorn to take thee basely; you shall have Soldiers chance, Sir, for your Life, since Chance so luckily has brought us hither; without more Aids we will dispute the Day: This Spot of Earth bears both our Armies Fates; I’ll give you back the Victory I have won, and thus begin a-new on equal Terms. _King._ That’s nobly said!--the Powers have heard my Wish. You, Sir, first taught me how to use a Sword, which heretofore has served me with Success: But now--’tis for _Semernia_ that it draws, a Prize more valued than my Kingdom, Sir-- _Bac._ Hah, _Semernia_! _King._ Your Blushes do betray your Passion for her. _Dar._ ‘Sdeath, have we fought for this, to expose the Victor to the conquer’d Foe? _Fear._ What, fight a single Man--our Prize already. _King._ Not so, young Man, while I command a Dart. _Bac._ Fight him! by Heaven, no reason shall dissuade me, and he that interrupts me is a Coward; whatever be my Fate, I do command ye to let the King pass freely to his Tents. _Dar._ The Devil’s in the General. _Fear._ ‘Sdeath, his Romantick Humour will undo us. [They fight and pause. _King._ You fight as if you meant to outdo me this way, as you have done in Generosity. _Bac._ You’re not behind-hand with me, Sir, in courtesy: Come, here’s to set us even-- [Fight again. _King._ You bleed apace. _Bac._ You’ve only breath’d a Vein, and given me new Health and Vigour by it. [They fight again, Wounds on both sides, the _King_ staggers; _Bacon_ takes him in his Arms; the _King_ drops his Sword. How do you, Sir? _King._ Like one--that’s hovering between Heaven and Earth; I’m--mounting--somewhere--upwards--but giddy with my flight,--I know not where. _Bac._ Command my Surgeons,--instantly--make haste; Honour returns, and Love all bleeding’s fled. [Ex. _Fearless_. _King._ Oh, _Semernia_, how much more Truth had thy Divinity than the Predictions of the flattering Oracles! Commend me to her--I know you’ll--visit--your fair Captive, Sir, and tell her--oh--but Death prevents the rest. [Dies. Enter _Fearless_.