Let froward Fortune do her worst; I shall
Create my greatness, or attempting fall:
And when I fall, I will deserve my ruin.
[Exit.
ACT II., SCENE 1.
Enter Plangus, Nicetes, Aramnes.
Nic. What, sir, and are you melancholy, when fate
Hath shower'd a happiness so unexpected on us?
This ugly, sneaking peace is the soldier's rock
He splits his fortunes on. Bawdry's a virtue to't.
Pox o' these beaver hats, they make one's headache
Worse than a cap of steel: and bear not off a knock
The tenth part so well.
Plan. You're mad for fighting, gentlemen,
And we shall have enough of it.
The Argives, fifty thousand strong,
Have like a whirlwind borne down all before 'em;
And I, with thirteen thousand, that remain
Undisbanded of the last expedition,
Have command to fight that multitude
Of old tough soldiers: while ours,
In a month or two, won't have pick'd up that valour
That in this idle time hath slipp'd from them.
They have forgot what noise a musket makes;
And start if they but hear a drum.
Are these fellows either enow, or fit,
On whom a kingdom's safety should be built?
Indeed, were they to encounter some mistress,
Or storm a brothel-house, perhaps they'd venture;
But for my part I yield; nor would I oppose my father:
If he sees good we perish, I am already
Sacrific'd; yet our enemies shall dearly purchase
Their victory. Pray look to your charge, Nicetes,
And you, Aramnes, with all care and speed; and when
You come into the field, then let me see
This countenance, that frowning smile, and I
Shall like it: I love a man runs laughing
Upon death. But we lose time in talk.
[Exeunt Nicetes and Aramnes.
SCENE II.
Enter Inophilus.