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[Music
a broad Sword thro' my Guts.
]
Coridon.
Dull Fool rail no more at Cavaleering,
What a damn'd Scandal it is,
To sneak here at home,
Grow mouldy with peace,
When loud Fame calls thee out;
Where bold Dragoons are Domineering,
Thou'lt see fortune ready to befriend thee,
If thou art wounded,
For Honour and Valour,
Preferment's propounded.
Colin.
I fear my Commission,
Will prove but a Vision,
For when I am posted,
On Mines, where I'm like to be roasted,
'Tis forty to one but I'm puff'd from my future Command,
Or if with much Toyling,
I chance to scape Broyling,
A damn'd bit of Lead,
Drills me quite thro' the Head,
How the Devil then shall I kiss the King's Hand,
Zoons, how shall I kiss the King's Hand.
To the Second Part of the Tune.
Coridon.
From Bullets and Fire,
Tho' oft we retire,