HENRY THE SIXTH'S _Camp, at Hexham._
_Enter a DRUMMER and a FIFER._
_Drum._ Morrow to you, Master Tooting--a merry day-breaking to your
worship.
_Fifer._ A sad head-breaking, I fancy. Plaguy troublesome times,
brother! Buffetted, by the opposite party, out of one place, and now
waiting till they come to buffet us out of another. Whenever they do
come, let me tell you, a man will scarce have time to get up from his
straw bed, before he's laid down again by a long shot of the enemy. We
shall be popp'd at like a parcel of partridges, rising from stubble.
_Drum._ Pshaw! plague, what signifies taking matters to heart? Luck's
all. War's a chance, you know. If one day's bad, another's better.
What matters an odd drubbing, or so? A soldier should never grumble.
_Fifer._ Why, zouns! flesh and blood, nor any thing that belongs to a
camp, can't help it. Do, now, only give your drum a good beating, and
mind what a damn'd noise it will make.--Not grumble, when we take so
many hard knocks?
_Drum._ No, to be sure; else how should we be able to return them?
_Fifer._ Ay, there stands the case; we never can return them. Others
can have a blow, and give a blow; but as for me, and yourself, and Kit
Crackcheeks, the trumpeter; 'sbud, they may thump us from morning to
night, and all the revenge we have, is--Toot-a-too, rub-a-dub, and
tantararara.
_Drum._ O fie! learn to know our consequence better, brother, I beseech
you. My word for it, we are the heros that do all the execution. Who
but we keep up the vigour of an engagement, and the courage of the
soldiers? Fear, brother, is, for all the world, like your bite of a
tarantula; there's no conquering its effects without music. We are of
as much consequence to an army, as wind to a windmill: the wings can't
be put in motion without us.
_Fifer._ Marry, that's true: and if two armies ever meet without coming
to blows, nothing but our absence can be the occasion of it. The only
way to restore harmony is, to take away our music.
_Enter a CORPORAL and SOLDIERS._
_Soldier._ Come along, my boys; now for the news!
_Corp._ Silence!
_Soldiers._ Ay, ay--Silence.
_Corp._ Hold your peace, there, and listen to what I'm going to inform
you--Hem!--Who am I?
_All Soldiers._ Our corporal! Alick Puff;--our corporal.
_Corp._ O ho! am I so?--then obey orders, you riotous rascals, and keep
your tongues between the few teeth the civil war has been civil enough
to leave you. What! is it for a parcel of pitiful privates to gabble
before their superior officer! know yourselves for a set of ignorant
boobies, as you are--and do not forget that I am at the head of you.
_Drum._ But, pr'ythee, good Master Corporal, what news?
_Corp._ Ay, there it is; good Master Corporal, and sweet Master Corporal,
the news? who is to tell you, but I? and what do I ever get by it?
_Fifer._ Come, come, you shall have our thanks with all our hearts;--we
promise you that.
_Soldier._ Ay, ay, that you shall--now for it!
_Corp._ Then!--You remember your promise?
_All Soldiers._ Yes, yes, we do.
_Corp._ Why, then, you'll all have your throats cut before to-morrow
morning.
_All._ How!
_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.