1 Burg. But when we tooke them on,
Famishd allmost for want of entertainement,
Then they cryde out they would do any thing
We would commaund them.
1 Cap. And so we say still, Provided it be honest.
Giles. Is it fitt
That mercenary Soldiers, that for pay
Give up their liberties and are sworne t'expose
Their lyves and fortunes to all dangers, should
Capitulate with their Lords?
1 Burg. Prescribing when They are pleasd to be commaunded and for what.
Giles. Answeare to this.
Leuit. You know our resolutions, And therefore, Captaine, speak for all.
1 Cap. I will,
And doe it boldly: We were entertaind
To serve the generall States and not one Province;
To fight as often as the Prince of Orange
Shall lead us forth, and not to stand against him;
To guard this Cuntrie, not to ruyn it;
To beat of foreigne Enemies, not to cherish
Domestique factions. And where you upbraid us
With the poore means we have to feed, not cloath us,
Forgetting at how deere a rate we buy
The triffles we have from you, thus I answeare:—
Noe Cuntrie ere made a defensive war
And gaind by it but you. What privat Gentleman
That onely trailes a pike, that comes from England
Or Fraunce, but brings gold with him which he leaves here
And so enriches you? Where such as serve
The Polander, Bohemian, Dane, or Turck,
Though they come almost naked to their Collours,
Besides their pay (which they contempne) the spoiles
Of armyes overthrowne, of Citties sackd,
Depopulations of wealthie Cuntries,
If he survive the uncertaine chaunce of war,
Returne him home to end his age in plenty
Of wealth and honours.
Bar. This is shrewdly urgd.
1 Cap. Where we, poore wretches, covetous of fame onely,
Come hether but as to a Schoole of war
To learne to struggle against cold and hunger,
And with unwearied steps to overcome
A tedious march when the hot Lyons breath
Burnes up the feilds; the glory that we ayme at
Being our obedience to such as doe
Commaund in cheif; to keepe our rancks, to fly
More then the death all mutenies and rebellions.
And would you then, whose wisdomes should correct
Such follies in us, rob us of that litle,
That litle honour that rewards our service,
To bring our necks to the Hangmans Sword or Halter,
Or (should we scape) to brand our foreheads with
The name of Rebells?
Giles. I am put to a non plus:— Speake mine Here Secretarie.