_Drum._ Pshaw! it can't be! _Corp._ See there, now! just as I expected.--After all I have imparted, merely for your pleasure and satisfaction, not a man among you has the gratitude to say, thank you, Corporal, for your kind information. _Drum._ But, is the enemy at hand? _Corp._ No matter, Mum! only when the business is over with you, and you are all stiff in the field, do me the credit to say, afterwards, I was the first that told you it would happen. I, Alexander Puff, corporal to King Henry the Sixth, (Heaven bless him!) in his majesty's camp, at Hexham, in Northumberland. _Fifer._ Well, though they do muster strong, we may make Edward's party skip for all that; if we have but justice on our side. _Corp._ Well said, Master Wiseacre!--Justice! No, no! Might overcomes right, now a days. Bully Rebellion has almost frightened Justice out of her wits; and, when she ventures to weigh causes, her hand trembles so confoundedly, that half the merits tumble out of the scale. _Fifer._ But, still, I say---- _Corp._ Say no more--but take care of yourself in the battle--that's all.--'Sblood! if the enemy were to find your little, dry, taper carcase, pink'd full of round holes, they'd mistake you for your own fife. But, remember this, my lads. Edward of York has again shoved King Henry from his possessions, and squatted his own usurping, beggarly gallygaskins, in the clean seat of sovereignty; and here are we brave fellows, at Hexham, come to place him on the stool of repentance. And there's our king at the head of us--and there's his noble consort, the sword and buckler, Queen Margaret--and there's the Lord Seneschal of Normandy--and the Lord Duke of Somerset--and the Lord knows who!--The enemy is at hand, with a thumping power; so up, courage, and to loggerheads we go for it.--Huzza! for the Red Roses, and the House of Lancaster. _All._ Huzza! huzza! huzza! SONG.--CORPORAL. _My tight fellow soldiers, prepare for your foes;_ _Fight away, for the cause of the jolly Red Rose;_ _Never flinch while you live; should you meet with your death,_ _There's no fear that you'll run--you'll be quite out of breath._ _Then be true to your colours, the Lancasters chose,_ _And the laurel entwine with the jolly Red Rose._ Chorus. _Then be true, &c._ _He who follows for honour the drum and the fife,_ _May perhaps have the luck to get honour for life;_ _And he who, for money, makes fighting his trade,_ _Let him now face the foe, he'll be handsomely paid._ _Then be true, &c._ _The fight fairly done, my brave boys of the blade,_ _How we'll talk, o'er our cups, of the havock we've made!_ _How we'll talk, if we once kill a captain or two,_ _Of a hundred more fellows, that nobody knew._ _Then my tight fellow soldiers prepare for your foes._ _And the laurel entwine with the jolly Red Rose._ [Exeunt. SCENE III. _Outside of the Royal Tent._ _Enter FOOL._