Well. I see you’re all base Cowards, and here cashier ye from all Commands and Offices.
Whim. Look ye, Colonel, you may do what you please, but you lose one of the best dress’d Officers in your whole Camp, Sir.
Tim. And in me, such a Head-piece.
Whiff. I’ll say nothing, but let the State want me.
Dull. For my part I am weary of weighty Affairs.
In this while Well. Down. Friend. and Haz. talk.
Well. Command what Men you please, but Expedition makes you half a Conqueror.
Ex. Friend. and Haz.
Enter another Seaman with a Letter, gives it to Downright, he and Wellman read it.
Down. Look ye now, Gentlemen, the Master has writ.