]
ARTHUR.
Lieutenant, lead your soldiers to the ships,
There let them have their coats, at their arrival
They shall have pay: farewell, look to your charge.
SOLDIER.
Aye, we are now sent away, and cannot so much as speak
with our friends.
OLIVER.
No, man; what, ere you used a zutch a fashion, thick you
cannot take your leave of your vrens?
ARTHUR.
Fellow, no more. Lieutenant, lead them off.
SOLDIER.
Well, if I have not my pay and my clothes, I'll venture a
running away tho I hang for't.
ARTHUR.
Away, sirrah, charm your tongue.
[Exit Soldiers.]
OLIVER.
Been you a presser, sir?
ARTHUR.
I am a commander, sir, under the King.
OLIVER.
Sfoot, man, and you be ne'er zutch a commander,
should a spoke with my vrens before I should agone,
so should.
ARTHUR.
Content yourself, man, my authority will stretch to
press so good a man as you.
OLIVER.
Press me? I deuve ye, press scoundrels, and thy messels:
Press me! chee scorns thee, yfaith: For seest thee, here's
a worshipful knight knows cham not to be pressed by thee.
[Enter Sir Lancelot, Weathercock, young Flowerdale, old
Flowerdale, Lucy, Frances.]
LANCELOT.
Sir Arthur, welcome to Lewsome, welcome by my troth.
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