_Beau._ Do, rail, Courtine, do: it may get thee employment. _Cour._ At you I ought to rail; 'twas your fault we left our employments abroad, to come home and be loyal; and now we as loyally starve for it. _Beau._ Did not thy ancestors do it before thee, man? I tell thee, loyalty and starving are all one. The old cavaliers got such a trick of it in the king's exile, that their posterity could never thrive since. _Cour._ 'Tis a fine equipage I am like to be reduced to; I shall be ere long as greasy as an Alsatian bully; this flopping hat, pinned up on one side, with a sandy, weather-beaten peruke, dirty linen, and, to complete the figure, a long scandalous iron sword jarring at my heels, like a-- _Beau._ Snarling, thou meanest, like its master. _Cour._ My companions the worthy knights of the most noble order of the post; your peripatetic philosophers of the Temple-walks,[26] rogues in rags, and yet not honest; villains that undervalue damnation, will forswear themselves for a dinner, and hang their fathers for half-a-crown. _Beau._ I am ashamed to hear a soldier talk of starving. _Cour._ Why, what shall I do? I can't steal. _Beau._ Though thou canst not steal, thou hast other vices enough for any industrious fellow to live comfortably upon. _Cour._ What! wouldst thou have me turn rascal, and run cheating up and down the town for a livelihood? I would no more keep a blockhead company, and endure his nauseous nonsense, in hopes to get him, than I would be a drudge to an old woman with rheumatic eyes, hollow teeth, and stinking breath, for a pension: of all rogues, I would not be a fool-monger. _Beau._ How well this niceness becomes thee! I'd fain see e'en thee turn parson in a pet, o' purpose to rail at all those vices which I know thou naturally art fond of. Why, surely an old lady's pension need not be so despicable in the eyes of a disbanded officer, as times go, friend. _Cour._ I am glad, Beaugard, you think so. _Beau._ Why thou shalt think so too, man; be ruled by me, and I'll bring thee into good company,--families, Courtine, families; and such families, where formality's a scandal, and pleasure is the business; where the women are all wanton, and the men all witty, you rogue. _Cour._ What, some of your worship's Wapping acquaintance, that you made last time you came over for recruits, and spirited away your landlady's daughter a-volunteering with you into France? _Beau._ I'll bring thee, Courtine, where cuckoldom's in credit, and lewdness laudable; where thou shalt wallow in pleasures and preferments, revel all day, and every night lie in the arms of melting beauty, sweet as roses, and as springs refreshing.