ACT I.
Scene I.
Enter Theodor and Putskie.
Theod.
CAptain, your Friend's prefer'd, the Princess has her,
Who, I assure my self, will use her nobly;
A pretty sweet one 'tis, indeed.
Put.
Well bred, Sir;
I do deliver that upon my Credit,
And of an honest Stock.
Theod.
It seems so, Captain,
And no doubt will do well.
Put.
Thanks to your Care, Sir;
But tell me, noble Colonel, why this Habit
Of Discontent is put on through the Army?
And why your valiant Father, our great General,
The Hand that taught to strike, the love that lead all;
Why he, that was the Father of the War,
He that begot, and bred the Soldier,
Why he sits shaking of his Arms, like Autumn,
His Colours folded, and his Drums Cas'd up,
The Tongue of War for ever ty'd within us?
Theod.
It must be so: Captain, you are a stranger,
But of a small time here a Soldier,
Yet that time shews ye a right good, and great one,