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SCÆNA. VI.

Callias, Neander, Artops.
Call.
Did we three ere looke to be Captaines?

Nean.
Troth,
I thought my Marches onely would have beene
To lead a Company of Ladies in
Court Ranke, and File, unto a Maske, and Play,
And backe againe.

Art.
And as for skirmishes,
I thought all mine would have proov'd Chamber ones,
Tongue-Fights. Or if they had proceeded farther
To th'Drawing of Bloud, at most, Naile-Combates.

Call.
I've
The strangest Company of Voluntiers;
All Gentlemen of Hedges, & Highwayes.
I doe command an Hospitall. Of Fifty
But two have Shirts among 'em; And those worne
Not as shift, or Things at first ordain'd to be
Made cleane, and washt; but as perpetuall Garments;
Not to be put of 'till They doe forsake
Their Wearers, Voluntarily, and creepe from them.
That which was linnen once, Time turnes to Troopes.
I'le undertake could all Quicke Things which are
Bithynian in our Regiment beare Armes,
We need not feare the Persian. Every Souldier
Would be a moving Legion.

Neand.
My Company,
Is much like yours. Last Muster, when I reckon'd
By th'poll, They were Threescore, But when by doublets,
Scarce Thirty; And these fit for summer Warres.
A fine, warme, entercourse doth passe betweene
Their Skin, and Sun. Farre off They show directly
Like souldiers of the first Ages, before such Things
As Clothes, or Garments were invented; Neare hand
You'd thinke They had held civill conflict, and
Torne one another thus ragged. If we fight

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With th'Enemy; their first great Enterprize
Will be for Breeches; The next for Conquest.

Art.
Troth,
Mine are not altogether so compleatly
Ragged and torne, as yours are. But for Courages
And Lookes, I doe perceive a kinde of quiet,
Yet understood Conspiracy among them,
How not to fight; And can observe a speaking,
Sly Combination passe 'twixt face and face,
How to escape. Their Marches are divided
Betweene a certaine provident care to fly,
And feare of hanging.

Call:
And yet these thin-sculd Rascals
Dare mutiny for pay. This Morning I
Consum'd in hearing greivances. One told me
He was this Weeke preserv'd by Miracle;
Liv'd on one bunch of Radishes, which sure
He thinkes did multiply from one to many,
He had beene famisht else. Another told me,
A Cheese had like t'have rais'd Commotion
'Twixt him and foure Camerades; which had suffic'd them
Foure Dayes. A Third doth verily beleive
He shall in time reduce his Body to
A perfect Habit of eating nothing; For
He doth protest He hath not tasted food
These eight and forty houres.

Neand:
Here comes the King.