SERGEANT. If you were one of them, ma'am, and death or glory was the call, you would take the shilling, ma'am.
PHOEBE. Oh, not for that.
SERGEANT. For King and Country, ma'am?
PHOEBE (grandly). Yes, yes, for that.
SERGEANT (candidly). Not that it is all fighting. The sack of captured towns—the loot.
PHOEBE (proudly). An English soldier never sacks nor loots.
SERGEANT. No, ma'am. And then—the girls.
PHOEBE. What girls?
SERGEANT. In the towns that—that we don't sack.
PHOEBE. How they must hate the haughty conqueror.