_Puts._ Keep on your way, you cannot miss. _Post._ I thank ye. [_Exit._ _Anc._ If he be married, may he dream he's cuckol'd, And when he wakes believe, and swear he saw it, Sue a Divorce, and after find her honest: Then in a pleasant Pigstye, with his own garters, And a fine running knot, ride to the Devil. _Puts._ If these would do-- _Anc._ I'll never trust my mind more, If all these fail. _1 Sold._ What shall we do now, Captain? For by this honest hand I'll be torn in pieces, Unless my old General go, or some that love him, And love us equal too, before I fight more: I can make a Shooe yet, and draw it on too, If I like the Leg well. _Anc._ Fight? 'tis likely: No, there will be the sport Boys, when there's need on's. They think the other Crown will do, will carry us, And the brave golden Coat of Captain _Cankro Boroskie_. What a noise his very name carries! 'Tis Gun enough to fright a Nation, He needs no Souldiers; if he do, for my part, I promise ye he's like to seek 'em; so I think you think too, And all the Army; No, honest, brave old _Archas_, We cannot so soon leave thy memory, So soon forget thy goodness: he that does, The scandal and the scumm of Arms be counted. _Puts._ You much rejoice me now you have hit my meaning, I durst not press ye, till I found your spirits: Continue thus. _Anc._ I'll go and tell the Duke on't. _Enter 2 Post._ _Puts._ No, no, he'll find it soon enough, and fear it, When once occasion comes: Another Packet! From whence, Friend, come you? _2 Post._ From the Borders, Sir. _Puts._ What news, Sir, I beseech you? _2 Post._ Fire and Sword, Gentlemen; The _Tartar_'s up, and with a mighty force, Comes forward, like a tempest, all before him Burning and killing. _Anc._ Brave Boys, brave news, Boys. _2 Post._ Either we must have present help-- _Anc._ Still braver. _2 Post._ Where lies the Duke? _Sold._ He's there. _2 Post._ 'Save ye, Gentlemen. [_Exit._ _Anc._ We are safe enough, I warrant thee: Now the time's come. _Puts._ I, now 'tis come indeed, and now stand firm, Boys, And let 'em burn on merrily. _Anc._ This City would make a fine marvellous Bone-fire: 'Tis old dry timber, and such Wood has no fellow. _2 Sold._ Here will be trim piping anon and whining, Like so many Pigs in a storm, When they hear the news once. _Enter_ Boroskie, _and Servant_. _Puts._ Here's one has heard it already; Room for the General. _Boros._ Say I am faln exceeding sick o'th' sudden, And am not like to live. _Puts._ If ye go on, Sir, For they will kill ye certainly; they look for ye.