I will! I will "Postscript. I hear you are engaged in these dreadful wars. Pray heaven! you have chosen aright; for I know not. But peril not your life more than becomes true valour; for I have heard you are dear to many. Adieu!" _I_ dear to many?--let's see, there is my faithful serving-man--poor fellow, he likes not this life, and doth assume an amusing kind of fear, but I do believe thinking more of me than himself. Well then; I had a dog; but he was lost the night of our passage, when but for his inveterate barking, for which I beat him, I had surely been drowned in the cabin, where I slept, when the vessel was stranded--he loved me; but for more--I know them not. O dearest Florence! were I lov'd indeed by thee, There were indeed a bright star in the sky, To guide my shatter'd bark of destiny! [_Retires, U.R._] _Enter CROMWELL, IRETON, DESBOROUGH, and others, U.E.L., ARTHUR joins them._ _Crom._ Thus, gentlemen, the reports being ended, I would but detain you a short while in prayer. _Des._ Nay! as I said before, we are fatigued, and the body needs refreshment. _Ire._ [Apart to Cromwell.] How the pampered boar frets! _Crom._ [_To Desborough._] Will you to my tent?--I can give you a soldier's fare, with a soldier's welcome, a crust and cup of ale, and we can discourse what remains. _An Officer._ Indeed we are engaged; but if the General Cromwell would honour us-- _Crom._ I thank you, I have supped ere you have dined. [_Drum rolls. A loud shout of merriment and clatter is heard._] _Des._ What is that--in my tent too! [_Looking off, R. WILLIAM comes forward, R._] By Heaven! rank mutiny. I'll have them shot. _Will._ Nay! worthy sir, knock out the priming of your wrath from the matchlock of your vengeance, and abide till to-morrow, when you shall see many a stout fellow and gormandizer to boot levelled. [_To Cromwell._] Great Sir! they complain that the wine is thin. _Crom._ Go purchase some strong waters. [_Gives him money._] I must not have my fellows' stomachs unsettled. Here, thou graceless knave. _Will._ An't please you, we had no time for grace; but we return thanks to you, under Heaven. _Des._ This then is your work, General Cromwell! Call you this discipline? _Crom._ [_To the Soldiers as they enter, R._] Go hence, you rascals. [_Soldiers entering with whooping and shouts._] Sound bugles! fall in! quick march! [_The Soldiers march round and fall in a line in perfect order, WILLIAM bringing up the rear, shouldering a bone._] _Ire._ [_To Arthur Walton._] See you now the bent of this? How he doth make them his own? I tell you that the day will come, this host shall follow him alone, ay! and perchance England-- _Crom._ [_To Desborough, who has remained apart, indignant._] Come, Desborough! if thou hast digested thine indignation--[_Taking Desborough's arm, kindly._] _Ire._ As he will never his dinner. _Crom._ Thou wilt unto my tent, where is store of wholesome food.