Their drink is clear, but their conceits are mud.

LUCY.
Yet these are great gentlemen soldiers.

ARTHUR.
No, they are wretched slaves,
Whose desperate lives doth bring them timeless graves.

LUCY.
Both for your self, and for your form of life,
If I may choose, I'll be a soldier's wife.

[Exeunt.]


SCENE IV. The same.

[Enter Sir Lancelot and Oliver.]

OLIVER.
And tyt trust to it, so then.

LANCELOT.
Assure your self,
You shall be married with all speed we may:
One day shall serve for Frances and for Lucy.

OLIVER.
Why che would vain know the time, for providing