1st Sol. Stick! ay, my lord, stick like bandogs, till we be pulled off.
Phil. That's nobly said: I'll lead you but to death,
Where I'll have greatest share; we shall win fame
For life, and that doth crown a soldier's name.
1st Sol. How! to death, my lord? Not I, by Gad's-lid: I have a poor wife and children at home, and, if I die, they beg: and do you think I'll see her go up and down the wide universal world?
Phil. For every drop of blood which thou shalt lose,
Coward, I'll give thy wife a wedge of gold.
2d Sol. Hang him, meacock! my lord, arm yourself; I'll fight for you, till I have not an eye to see the fire in my touch-hole.
Phil. Be thou a king's companion; thou and I
Will dare the cardinal and the Moor to fight
In single combat; shall we, ha?
2d Sol. Agreed.
Phil. We'll beat'm to hell-gate; shall we, ha?
2d Sol. Hell-gate's somewhat too hot, somewhat too hot; the porter's a knave: I'd be loth to be damned for my conscience; I'll knock any body's costard, so I knock not there, my lord; hell-gates!