_Tim._ Me--’twas the Major’s Ambition here--to make himself a great Man with the Council again. _Dull._ Pox o’ this Ambition, it has been the ruin of many a gallant Fellow. _Whiff._ If I get home again, the height of mine shall be to top Tobacco; would I’d some Brandy. _Tim._ Gads zoors, would we had, ‘tis the best Armour against Fear--hum--I hear no body now--prithee advance a little. _Whim._ What, before a Horse-Officer? _Friend._ Stand, on your Lives-- _Tim._ Oh, ‘tis impossible--I’m dead already. _Friend._ What are ye?--speak--or I’ll shoot. _Whim._ Friends to thee,--who the Devil are we Friends to? _Tim._ E’en who please you, Gad zoors. _Friend._ Hah--Gad zoors--who’s there, _Timorous_? _Tim._ Hum--I know no such Scoundrel-- [Gets behind. _Dull._ Hah--that’s _Friendly’s_ Voice. _Friend._ Right--thine’s that of _Dullman_--who’s with you? _Dull._ Only _Timorous_, _Whimsey_ and _Whiff_, all valiantly running away from the Arch-Rebel that took us Prisoners. _Haz._ Can you inform us where the Ladies are lodg’d? _Dull._ In the hither Quarter, in _Daring’s_ Tent; you’ll know them by Lanthorns on every corner--there was never better time to surprize them--for this day _Daring’s_ married, and there’s nothing but Dancing and Drinking. _Haz._ Married! to whom? _Dull._ That I ne’er enquir’d. _Friend._ ‘Tis to _Chrisante_, Friend--and the Reward of my Attempt is lost. Oh, I am mad, I’ll fight away my Life, and my Despair shall yet do greater Wonders, than even my Love could animate me to. Let’s part our Men, and beset his Tents on both sides. [_Friendly_ goes out with a Party. _Haz._ Come, Gentlemen, let’s on-- _Whiff._ On, Sir,--we on, Sir?-- _Haz._ Ay, you on, Sir--to redeem the Ladies. _Whiff._ Oh, Sir, I am going home for Money to redeem my _Nancy_. _Whim._ So am I, Sir. _Tim._ I thank my Stars I am a Batchelor.--Why, what a Plague is a Wife? _Haz._ Will you march forward? _Dull._ We have atchiev’d Honour enough already, in having made our Campaign here-- [Looking big. _Haz._ ‘Sdeath, but you shall go--put them in the front, and prick them on--if they offer to turn back, run them thro. _Tim._ Oh, horrid-- [The Soldiers prick them on with their Swords. _Whiff._ Oh, _Nancy_, thy Dream will yet come to pass. _Haz._ Will you advance, Sir? [Pricks _Whiff_. _Whiff._ Why, so we do, Sir; the Devil’s in these fighting Fellows. [Exeunt. An Alarm at a distance. _Within._ To Arms, to Arms, the Enemy’s upon us. [A Noise of Fighting, after which enters _Friendly_ with his Party, retreating and fighting from _Daring_ and some Soldiers, _Ranter_ fighting like a Fury by his side, he putting her back in vain; they fight out. Re-enter _Daring_ and _Friendly_ all bloody. Several Soldiers enter with Flambeaux. _Dar._ Now, Sir--what Injury have I ever done you, that you should use this Treachery against me?