Bardolph, get thee before to Couentry, fill me a
Bottle of Sack, our Souldiers shall march through: wee'le
to Sutton‑cop‑hill to Night.
Will you giue me Money, Captaine?
Lay out, lay out.
This Bottle makes an Angell.
And if it doe, take it for thy labour: and if it
make twentie, take them all, Ile answere the Coynage.
Bid my Lieutenant
Peto meete me at the Townes end.
I will Captaine: farewell.
If I be not asham'd of my Souldiers, I am a
sowc't‑Gurnet: I haue mis‑vs'd the Kings Presse dam
nably. I haue got, in exchange of a hundred and fiftie
Souldiers, three hundred and odde Pounds. I presse me
none but good House‑holders, Yeomens Sonnes: enquire
me out contracted Batchelers, such as had beene ask'd
twice on the Banes: such a Commoditie of warme slaues,
as had as lieue heare the Deuill, as a Drumme; such as
feare the report of a Caliuer, worse then a struck‑Foole,
or a hurt wilde‑Ducke. I prest me none but such Tostes
and Butter, with Hearts in their Bellyes no bigger then
Pinnes heads, and they haue bought out their seruices:
And now, my whole Charge consists of Ancients, Cor
porals, Lieutenants, Gentlemen of Companies, Slaues as
Lazarus in the painted Cloth, where the Glut
tons Dogges licked his Sores; and such, as indeed were
neuer Souldiers, but dis‑carded vniust Seruingmen, youn
ger Sonnes to younger Brothers, reuolted Tapsters and
Ostlers, Trade‑falne, the Cankers of a calme World, and
long Peace, tenne times more dis‑honorable ragged, then
an old‑fac'd Ancient; and such haue I to fill vp the
roomes of them that haue bought out their seruices: that
you would thinke, that I had a hundred and fiftie totter'd
Prodigalls, lately come from Swine‑keeping, from eating
Draffe and Huskes. A mad fellow met me on the way,
and told me, I had vnloaded all the Gibbets, and prest the
dead bodyes. No eye hath seene such skar‑Crowes: Ile
not march through Couentry with them, that's flat. Nay,
and the Villaines march wide betwixt the Legges, as if
they had Gyues on; for indeede, I had the most of them
out of Prison. There's not a Shirt and a halfe in all my
Company: and the halfe Shirt is two Napkins tackt to
gether, and throwne ouer the shoulders like a Heralds
Coat, without sleeues: and the Shirt, to say the truth,
stolne from my Host of
Inne‑keeper of Dauintry. But that's all one, they'le finde
Linnen enough on euery Hedge.
How now blowne
Iack? how now Quilt?
Hal? How now mad Wag, what a Deuill
do'st thou in Warwickshire? My good Lord of West
merland, I cry you mercy, I thought your Honour had al
ready beene at Shrewsbury.
Iohn,'tis more then time that I were
there, and you too: but my Powers are there alreadie.
The King, I can tell you, lookes for vs all: we must away
all to Night.