_Jun._ I will not love; I am a man, have reason, And I will use it: I'll no more tormenting, Nor whining for a wench, there are a thousand. _Petill._ Hold thee there boy. _Jun._ A thousand will intreat me. _Petill._ Ten thousand, _Junius_. _Jun._ I am young and lusty, And to my fashion valiant; can please nightly. _Petill._ I'll swear thy back's _probatum_, for I have known thee Leap at sixteen like a strong Stallion. _Jun._ I will be man again. _Petill._ Now mark the working, The devil and the spirit tug for't: twenty pound Upon the devils head. _Jun._ I must be wretched. _Petill._ I knew I had won. _Jun._ Nor have I so much power To shun my fortune. _Petill._ I will hunt thy fortune With all the shapes imagination breeds, [_Musick._ But I will fright thy devil: Stay, he sings now. _Song, by_ Junius, _and_ Petillius, _after him in mockage_. _Jun._ Must I be thus abus'd? _Petill._ Yes marry must ye. Let's follow him close: oh, there he is, now read it. Herald reads. _It is the Generals command, that all sick, persons old and unable, retire within the Trenches; he that fears his liberty, to leave the Field: Fools, Boys, and Lovers must not come near the Regiments, for fear of their infections; especially those Cowards they call Lovers._ _Jun._ Ha? _Petill._ Read on. Herald. _If any common Soldier love an enemy, he's whip'd_ _and made a slave: If any Captain, cast, with loss of honors,_ _flung out o'th' Army, and made unable ever after to bear the name of a Soldier._ _Jun._ The ---- consume ye all, Rogues. [_Exit_ Jun. _Petill._ Let this work: H'as something now to chew upon: he's gone, Come, shake no more. _Her._ Well, Sir, you may command me, But not to do the like again for _Europe_; I would have given my life for a bent two-pence. If I e'r read to Lovers whilst I live again, Or come within their confines-- _Petill._ There's your payment, And keep this private. _Her._ I am school'd for talking. [_Exit_ Herald. _Enter_ Demetrius. _Petill._ How now, _Demetrius_, are we drawn? _Dem._ 'Tis doing: Your Company stands fair; but pray ye, where's _Junius_? Half his command are wanting, with some forty That _Decius_ leads. _Petill._ Hunting for Victuals: Upon my life free-booting Rogues, their stomachs Are like a widows lust, ne'r satisfied. _Dem._ I wonder how they dare stir, knowing the enemy Master of all the Countrey. _Petill._ Resolute hungers Know neither fears nor faiths, they tread on ladders, Ropes, Gallows, and overdoe all dangers. _Dem._ They may be hang'd though. _Petill._ There's their joyful supper, And no doubt they are at it.