Place. No matter for that—you'll be able to make odes.
2 Voter. Odes, my lord! what are those?
Place. Faith, sir, I can't tell well what they are; but I know you may be qualified for the place without being a poet.
Trap. Now, my lord, do you file off, and talk apart with your people; and let the colonel advance.
Fust. Ay, faith, I think it is high time for the colonel to be heard.
Col. Depend upon it, sir; I'll serve you.
Fust. Upon my word the colonel begins very well; but has not that been said already?
Trap. Ay, and if I was to bring a hundred courtiers into my play, they should all say it—none of them do it.
3 Voter. An't please your honour, I have read in a book called Fog's Journal that your honour's men are to be made of wax; now, sir, I have served my time to a wax-work maker, and desire to make your honour's regiment.
CoL Sir, you may depend on me.