Enter Bowyer.

Bow.  I have runne till I sweat, sweat till my shirt cleaves to my backe, cryed till I am hoarse, and am hoarse till I cannot cry; and yet he will not come backe.

Kath.  No matter, fellow, I have here a pledge Which I will zealously devote me to.—­ There’s thy reward:  withdraw, my father comes.

[Exit Painter.

    Enter Lewes.

Lew.  Where are these Lords? the one hath sate with me
And suddenly is risen from the boord,
The other came not at all.  Daughter, saw you
The Prince or Pembrooke which way they are gone?

Kath.  Backe to their Tents, my Lord, as I suppose.

Lew.  Back to their tents and take no leave of us? 
Nay, then I feare their meaning was too smoothe
And some black Treason cover’d in their smiles. 
Which we will seeke immediately to prevent.

[Exeunt.

Actus Secundus.

[SCENE 1.]

Enter Dicke Bowyer and soldiers, with Drum and colours.

Bow.  Stand, give the word along, stand.

Lieu.  Stand there!

Bow.  Lieutenant.

Lieu.  Captayne.

Bow.  Is the watch set in the King’s quarter yet.

Lieu.  An houre agoe.

Bow.  ’Zounds what foolish Canaanits were they to run in debt to their eyes for an houres sleepe sooner then they needed!  Sergeant.

Ser.  Anon, Sir.

Bow.  Anon, Sir! s’hart the Rogue answers like a Drawer, but tis the tricke of most of these Sergeants, all clincum clancum.  Gods dynes[118], I am an Onyon if I had not rather serve formost in the forlorne hoope of a battell or runne poynt blancke against the mouth of a double charged Cannon then come under the arrests of some their pewter pessels.  Zounds, tis hotter a great deale then hell mouth and Dives burning in Sulphur:  but thou art none of the genealogy of them.  Where must we watch to night?

Serg.  In the furthest Trenches that confront the enemies campe.

Bow.  Thats the next way to have all our throats cut.

Lieu.  That cannot be; you know, Captain, there’s a peace toward.

Bow.  A pox a peace, it keeps our Ancient whole, but s’hart our gaberdines go to wrack.  But futra! tis well known since Dick Bowyer came to France he hath shewed himselfe a gentleman and a Cavaliero and sets feare at’s heeles.  And I could scape (a pox on it) th’other thing, I might haps return safe and sound to England.  But what remedy? al flesh is grasse and some of us must needes be scorcht in this hote Countrey.  Lieutenant Core, prithee lead my Band to their quarter; and the rogues do not as they should, cram thy selfe, good Core, downe their throats and choak them.  Who stands Sentronell to night, Sir?