Gregory. I shall never know how to set about the business I am put upon. Of all the sports of the field, I never went a man shooting before in my life:—and, yet, when the lady, with the brass bason on her head, begins to talk big, there is a warm glow about one, that—gad! I begin to think 'tis courage;—for I don't know how to describe it; and never felt any thing like it before. [Alarm.] Zouns! no it e'n't—if it is, my courage is of a plaguy hot nature; for the very sound of a battle has thrown me into a perspiration. Oh! my poor mistress's man! Oh! I wish we were at home, and I was comfortably laid up in our damp garret, with a fine twinging fit of the rheumatism. [Huzza.] Mercy on us!—here's a whole posse, too, coming the other way. I'm in for it! but, if there is such a thing as the protecting mantle they talk'd of, I hope 'tis a pure large one; and there'll be room enough to lap up me, and my mistress in the tail on't. [Exit.
SCENE IV.
The Field.
Enter La Varenne, followed by the Fool.
La Var. Death and shame!
Are these the rough, and hardy northern men,
That were to back my Normans? Why, they fly,
Like skimming shadows, o'er a mountain's side,
Chased by the sun.
Fool. True; the heat of the battle is too strong for their cold constitutions.