Plume. Very well. Courage, my lads. Now we'll
| Sings. | Over the hills, and far away. |
| Courage, boys, it's one to ten | |
| But we return all gentlemen; | |
| While conq'ring colours we display, | |
| Over the hills, and far away. |
Kite, take care of them.
Enter Kite.
Kite. An't you a couple of pretty fellows, now! Here, you have complained to the captain; I am to be turned out, and one of you will be serjeant. Which of you is to have my halberd?
Both Rec. I.
Kite. So you shall—in your guts.—March, you sons of whores!
[Beats them off.