_O'Con_. Noa.

_Flint_. Nor ever will be with that old stingy booby. Look here--
take it. [_Gives him a purse_.]

_O'Con_. What must I do for this?

_Flint_. Mark me, our lieutenant is in love with the old rogue's
daughter: help us to break his worship's bones, and carry off the
girl, and you are a made man.

_O'Con_. I'll see you hanged first, you pack of skurry villains!
[_Throws away the purse_.]

_Flint_. What, sirrah, do you mutiny? Lay hold of him.

_O'Con_. Nay, then, I'll try your armour for you. [_Beats
them_.]

_All_. Oh! oh!--quarter! quarter!

[_Exeunt_ CORPORAL FLINT _and_ SOLDIERS.]

_Just_. [_Coming forward_.] Trim them, trounce them, break
their bones, honest Humphrey--What a spirit he has!

_Rosy_. Aquafortis. _O'Con_. Betray your master!

_Rosy_. What a miracle of fidelity!