_Pet. None, I thank ye_; A modest and a decent resolution, And well put on. Yes, I will leave ye, _Junius_, And leave ye to the boys, that very shortly Shall all salute ye, by your new sirname Of _Junius None I thank ye_. I would starve now, Hang, drown, despair, deserve the _forks_, lie open To all the dangerous passes of a wench, Bound to believe her tears, and wed her aches, E'r I would own thy follies. I have found ye, Your lays, and out-leaps _Junius_, haunts, and lodges: I have view'd ye, and I have found ye by my skill To be a fool o'th' first head, _Junius_, And I will hunt ye: ye are in love, I know it: Ye are an ass, and all the Camp shall know it. A peevish idle boy; your Dame shall know it; [A wronger of my care; your self shall know it.] _Enter Corporal_ Judas, _and four Soldiers_. _Jud._ A Bean? a Princely diet, a full Banquet, To what we compass. _1 Sold._ Fight like Hogs for Acorns? _2 Sold._ Venture our lives for Pig-nuts? _Pet._ What ail these Rascals? _3 Sold._ If this hold, we are starv'd. _Jud._ For my part, friends, Which is but twenty Beans a day, a hard world For Officers, and men of action; And those so clipt by master Mouse, and rotten: For understand 'em _French_ Beans, where the fruits Are ripen'd like the people in old tubs. For mine own part, I say, I am starv'd already. Not worth another Bean, consum'd to nothing, Nothing but flesh and bones left, miserable: Now if this mustie provender can prick me To honourable matters of atchievment, Gentlemen, Why there's the point. _4 Sold._ I'll fight no more. _Petill._ You'll hang then, A sovereign help for hunger. Ye eating Rascals, Whose gods are Beef and Brewis, whose brave angers Do execution upon these, and Chibbals: Ye dogs heads i'th' porridge-pot; you fight no more? Does _Rome_ depend upon your resolution For eating mouldy Pie-crust? _3 Sold._ Would we had it. _Jud._ I may do service, Captain. _Petill._ In a fish-market. You, Corporal Curry-Comb, what will your fighting Profit the Common-wealth? do you hope to triumph, Or dare your vamping valour, goodman Cobler, Clap a new [soal] to th' Kingdom? s'death, ye dog-whelps You, fight, or not fight. _Jud._ Captain. _Petill._ Out, ye flesh-flies, Nothing but noise and nastiness. _Jud._ Give us meat, Whereby we may do. _Petill._ Whereby hangs your valour? _Jud._ Good bits afford good blows. _Petill._ A good position: How long is't since thou eat'st last, wipe thy mouth, And then tell truth. _Jud._ I have not eat to th' purpose--