Jack.
What would you do if an enemy arose?
Fopdoodle.
Why, then the king would say: Upon the breeze that blows upon the borders of my land, I sniff the enemy. My lord, my good and trusty Lord Fopdoodle, hasten. Gather two hundred thousand men or so of our confiding yeomanry and stanchest citizens. Go put the enemy down.—And I would do it.
Jack.
But suppose he wouldn’t stay down?
Fopdoodle.
Tom, my man, stand firm.—When a king puts an enemy down, he puts him under ground.
Jack.
How would you raise the cash?