Burs. (pushing the crowd). On with ye—on with ye, there!—Let’s try ’em on!—Try ’em on—I’m to be colonel.
1st Boy. And I lieutenant.
2nd Boy. And I ensign.
3rd Boy. And I college salt-bearer.
4th Boy. And I oppidan.
5th Boy. Oh, what a pity I’m in mourning.
Several speak at once. And we are servitors. We are to be the eight servitors.
Wheel. And I am to be your Captain, I hope. Come on, my Colonel. (To Bursal). My lord, you are coming?
Rory. By-and-by—I’ve a word in his ear, by your lave and his.
Burs. Why, what the devil stops the way, there?—Push on—on with them.