SCÆNA 3.
Nicetes, Aramnes, with some Captains and Souldiers.
Ni.
Yonder's the bones oth' Army rally'd up together.
But they look'd rather as if they came home
From being soundly beaten.
Methinks such tatter'd Rogues should never conquer,
Victory would look so scurvily among 'um,
They'd so be-dawb her if she wore clean linnen.
Cap.
Sir, We wear as sound hearts in these torn breeches
As ere a Courtier of them all.
We are not afraid of spoyling our hands for want
Of gloves, nor need we Almond butter when we go to bed.
And though my Lieutenant is pleas'd to be a little merry,
You shall see us dye as handsomely in these old cloaths
As those wear better, and become our wounds as well,
And perhaps smell as sweet when we are rotten.
Pl.
We hope it, Captains and Fellow souldiers,
We are proud of this occasion to try your valours,
You shal go no farther then your Prince doth,
I'le be no bringer up of Rears.
Let not the number of the Foe affright you,
The more they are, the more wil the honour be.
The Lion scorns to prey upon a Hare,
Nor is the blinking Taper fit to try Eagles eyes;
The weight of glory makes our danger light,
When victory comes easily tis half a shame
Souldiers shout, and
exeunt.
To conquer.
Ino.
Ile stay at home and grieve, that so many
Daring souls should dye on such advantage.
Ino. exit.
