Firk. Ay, truly, she shall be laid at one side like a pair of old shoes else, and be occupied for no use.
Lacy. Truly, my friends, it lies not in my power:
The Londoners are pressed, paid, and set forth
By the lord mayor; I cannot change a man.
Hodge. Why, then you were as good be a corporal as a colonel, if you cannot discharge one good fellow; and I tell you true, I think you do more than you can answer, to press a man within a year and a day of his marriage.
Eyre. Well said, melancholy Hodge; gramercy, my fine foreman.
Marg. Truly, gentlemen, it were ill done for such as you, to stand so stiffly against a poor young wife, considering her case, she is new-married, but let that pass: I pray, deal not roughly with her; her husband is a young man, and but newly entered, but let that pass.
Eyre. Away with your pishery-pashery, your pols and your edipols![11] Peace, midriff; silence, Cicely Bumtrinket! Let your head speak.
Firk. Yea, and the horns too, master.
Eyre. Too soon, my fine Firk, too soon! Peace, scoundrels! See you this man? Captains, you will not release him? Well, let him go; he’s a proper shot; let him vanish! Peace, Jane, dry up thy tears, they’ll make his powder dankish. Take him, brave men; Hector of Troy was an hackney to him, Hercules and Termagant[12] scoundrels, Prince Arthur’s Round-table—by the Lord of Ludgate[13]—ne’er fed such a tall, such a dapper swordsman; by the life of Pharaoh, a brave, resolute swordsman! Peace, Jane! I say no more, mad knaves.
Firk. See, see, Hodge, how my master raves in commendation of Ralph!
Hodge. Ralph, th’art a gull, by this hand, an thou goest not.