That, in the heat and turmoil of the fight,
They might go off.
Prin.“They might!” Oh, craven souls,
Go off yourselves! Thank heaven, I have a heart
That quails not at the thought of meeting men.
I will discharge your muskets. Off with you!
Where’s my bandmistress?
Chloe.Please you, ma’am, the band
Do not feel well, and can’t come out to-day!
Prin. Why, this is flat rebellion! I’ve no time