The way to't
Strew'd with fair western smiles, and April blushes,
Led by the brightest constellations; eyes,
And sweet proportions, envying Heaven; but from thence
No way to guide, no path, no wisdom brings us.
With a little trim,
That wanton fools call fashion, thus abuse me?
Take me beyond my reason? Why should not I
Dote on my horse well trapt, my sword well hatch'd?
They are as handsome things, to me more useful,
And possible to rule too. Did I but love,
Yet 'twere excusable, my youth would bear it:
But to love there, and that no time can give me,
Mine honour dare not ask (she has been ravish'd),
My nature must not know (she hates our nation),
Thus to dispose my spirit!
[Reads.] It is the general's command, that all sick persons,
old and unable, retire within the trenches; he that fears, has
liberty to leave the field: Fools, boys, and cowards, must not
come near the regiments, for fear of their infections, especially
those cowards they call lovers.
[Reads.] If any common soldier love an enemy, he's whipp'd
and made a slave: If any captain, cast, with loss of honours,
flung out o' th' army, and made unable ever after to bear the
name of a soldier.
Then keep thine old use, Penius!
Be stubborn and vain-glorious, and I thank thee.
Come, let's go pray for six hours; most of us
I fear will trouble Heaven no more: Two good blows
Struck home at two commanders of the Britons.,
And my part's done.
'Tis possible we may live; but, Demetrius,
With what strange legs, and arms, and eyes, and noses,
Let carpenters and coppersmiths consider.
If I can keep my heart whole, and my windpipe,
That I may drink yet like a soldier