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SCÆNA I.

Plangus, Nicetes, Aramnes.
Ni.
What Sir, And are you Melancholy
When fate hath showr'd a happiness so unexpected on us?
This ugly sneaking peace is the Souldiers rock,
He splits his fortunes on. Bawdry's a vertue to't.
P---o' these Beaver-hats they make ones head ake
Worse then a Cap of steel, and bear not off a knock
The tenth part so well.

Pl.
You're mad for fighting, Gentlemen,
And we shall have enough of it.
The Argives fifty thousand strong,
Have like a whirlwind born down all before 'um;
And I with 13000. that remain
Yet undisbanded of the last expedition,
Have command to fight that multitude


Of old tough Souldiers: while ours
In a month or two won't have pickt up that valour
That in this idle time hath slipt from 'um;
They have forgot what noise a Musket makes,
And start if they but hear a Drum;
Are these fellows either enow or fit,
On whom a Kingdome's safety should be built:
Indeed were they to encounter some Mistress,
Or storm a Brothel-house, perhaps they'd venture;
But for my part, I yeeld; nor will I oppose my Father:
If he sees good we perish, I am already sacrifiz'd;
Yet our enemies shall dearly purchase
Their Victory.
Pray look to your charge, Nicetes, and you
Aramnes with all care and speed; and when you come
Into the field; then let me see this countenance,
That frowning smile, and I shall like it.
I love a man runs laughing upon death;
But we lose time in talk.

Ex. Nic. Aram.
Enter Inophilus.