Rod. But stay, what drum is this?
Enter Orlando with a drum; Orgalio; Tom, Ralph, and others as Soldiers, with spits and dripping-pans.
Brand. Now see, Angelica, the fruits of all your love.
Orl. Soldiers, this is the city of great Babylon,
Where proud Darius was rebated from:
Play but the men, and I will lay my head,
We'll sack and raze it ere the sun be set.
Tom. Yea, and scratch it too.—March fair, fellow frying-pan.
Orl. Orgalio, knowest thou the cause of my laughter?
Org. No, by my troth, nor no wise man else.
Orl. Why, sirrah, to think that if the enemy were fled ere we come, we'll not leave one of our own soldiers alive, for we two will kill them with our fists.
Ralph. Foh, come, let's go home again: he'll set probatum est upon my head-piece anon.