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.

_Leid_. I have heard
So much deliverd by you and so well,
Your actions, too, at all parts answearing
What you have spoken, that I must acknowledge
We all stand far indebted to your service:
And therefore, as unto the worthiest,
The faithfullest and strongest that protect
Us and our Cuntries, we now seek to you,
And would not but such men should be remembred
As principall assistants in the Care
Of a disease which now the State lyes sick of.
I know you love the valiant Prince, and yet
You must graunt him a Servant to the States
As you are, Gentlemen, and therefore will not
Defend that in him which you would not cherish
In cold blood in your selves; for should he be
Disloyall--

_Leuit_. He disloyall! 'tis a language
I will not heare.

2 _Cap_. Such a suspition of him
Is one that wore a Sword deserv'd the lye.

1 _Cap_. We know your oild tongue; and your rethorique
Will hardly work on us that are acquainted
With what faire language your ill purposes
Are ever cloathd, nor ev