Whose trim's so spruce, and their purse well lined.

[They move towards the tent.



SCENE II.

The above--Sergeant-Major, Trumpeter, Hulan.

TRUMPETER.
What would the boor? Out, rascal, away!

PEASANT.
Some victuals and drink, worthy masters, I pray,
For not a warm morsel we've tasted to day.

TRUMPETER.
Ay, guzzle and guttle--'tis always the way.

HULAN (with a glass).
Not broken your fast! there--drink, ye hound!

He leads the peasant to the tent--the others come forward.

SERGEANT (to the Trumpeter).
Think ye they've done it without good ground?
Is it likely they double our pay to-day,
Merely that we may be jolly and gay?