_Trim._ Ay, sirrah, what have you to do with more knowledge than that of your right hand from your left? [_Hits him a blow on the head._] _Ld. H._ Hugh Clump--Clump, thou growest a little too heavy for marching. _Trim._ Ay, my lord, but if we don't allow him the pay he'll starve, for he's too lame to get into the hospital. _Ld. H._ Richard Bumpkin! Ha! A perfect country hick. How came you, friend, to be a soldier? _Bump._ An't please your honour, I have been crossed in love, and am willing to seek my fortune. _Ld. H._ Well, I've seen enough of 'em. If you mind your affair, and act like a wise general, these fellows may do--come, take your orders. [TRIM _puts his hat on his stick, while my lord is giving him the ring, and whispers orders._] Well, gentlemen, do your business manfully, and nothing shall be too good for you. _All._ Bless your honour. [_Exeunt_ HARDY _and_ CAMPLEY. _Trim._ Now, my brave friends and fellow-soldiers--[_Aside._] I must fellow-soldier 'em just afore a battle, like a true officer, though I cane 'em all the year round beside--[_Strutting about._] Major-General Trim; no, pox, Trim sounds so very short and priggish--that my name should be a monosyllable! But the foreign news will write me, I suppose, Monsieur or Chevalier Trimont. Seigneur Trimoni, or Count Trimuntz, in the German Army, I shall perhaps be called; ay, that's all the plague and comfort of us great men, they do so toss our names about. But, gentlemen, you are now under my command--huzza! thrice--faith, this is very pleasing, this grandeur! Why, after all, 'tis upon the neck of such scoundrels as these gentlemen that we great captains build our renown. A million or two of these fellows make an Alexander, and as that my predecessor said in the tragedy of him on the very same occasion, going to storm for his Statira, so do I for my dear seamstress, Madam d'Epingle-- When I rush on, sure none will dare to stay; 'Tis beauty calls, and glory leads the way.[31] ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I.--LORD BRUMPTON'S _House._ _Enter_ TRUSTY _and_ LORD BRUMPTON. _Tru._ She knows no moderation in her good fortune; she has, out of impatience to see herself in her weeds, ordered her mantua woman to stitch up anything immediately. You may hear her and Tattleaid laugh aloud--she is so wantonly merry. _Ld. B._ But this of Lady Sharlot is the very utmost of all ill. Pray read--but I must sit; my late fit of the gout makes me act with pain and constraint. Let me see---- _Tru._ She writ it by the page, who brought it me, as I had wheedled him to do all their passages. _Ld. B._ [_Reads._] "You must watch the occasion of the servants being gone out of the house with the corpse; Tattleaid shall conduct you to my Lady Sharlot's apartment--away with her--and be sure you bed her---- "Your affectionate Sister, "MARY BRUMPTON."