SCENE I.--LIEUTENANT O'CONNOR's Lodgings.

_Enter_ SERJEANT TROUNCE, CORPORAL FLINT, _and four_
SOLDIERS.


1 _Sol_. I say you are wrong; we should all speak together, each
for himself, and all at once, that we may be heard the better.

2 _Sol_. Right, Jack, we'll argue in platoons.

3 _Sol_. Ay, ay, let him have our grievances in a volley, and if
we be to have a spokesman, there's the corporal is the lieutenant's
countryman, and knows his humour.

_Flint_. Let me alone for that. I served three years, within a
bit, under his honour, in the Royal Inniskillions, and I never will
see a sweeter tempered gentleman, nor one more free with his purse. I
put a great shammock in his hat this morning, and I'll be bound for
him he'll wear it, was it as big as Steven's Green.

4 _Sol_. I say again then you talk like youngsters, like militia
striplings: there's a discipline, look'ee in all things, whereof the
serjeant must be our guide; he's a gentleman of words; he understands
your foreign lingo, your figures, and such like auxiliaries in
scoring. Confess now for a reckoning, whether in chalk or writing,
ben't he your only man?

_Flint_. Why the serjeant is a scholar to be sure, and has the