SKIRMISH

Well, I cannot tell, but I am sure it goes wrong with me, for since the cessure of the wars, I have spent above a hundred crowns out a purse: I have been a soldier any time this for ty years, and now I perceive and old soldier, and and old Courtier have both one destiny, and in the end turn both in to hobnails. I will not say but that war is a bloodsucker, and so; but in my conscience, (as there is no soldier but has a p ice of one, though it be full of holes Like a shot Ancient, no matter, 'twill serve to swear by) in y conscience, I think some kind of Peace, ha more hidden oppressions, and violent heady sins, (that looking of a gentle nature) then a professed war. Is't possible? A Conjurer. O I, for I would not deceive him and I could choose, of all others. O wondrous new fools and fresh Asses. What in the name of Conjuring? You have my voice George? Near doubt me George Pye-boord. —only you must each me to conjure. O George! this sighed kills me, 'Tis my sworn Brother, Captain Idle. Apprehended for some felonious act or other, he has started out, has made a Night on't, lacked silver; I cannot but commend his resolution, he would not pawn his Buff-jerkin, I would either some of us were employde, or might pitch our Tents at Usurers doors, to kill the slaves as they peep out at the Wicket. Captain, what do you lie in for? is't great? what's your offence? I am twice sorry for you Captain: first that your purchase was so small, and now that your danger is so great. I think, I have there about about me! And honest—Bookkeeper. He bears a good mind in that Captain! Lay't upon George Pye-boord. I say again to you what's a clock? Then what's a clock in your conscience?—o, I must break off, here comes the corporal—hum, hum!—what's a clock? Thou dost not bawke or baffle me, dost thou I am a Soldier—pa to seventeen. I say it's but passed five then. Cast? dost thou speak of my casting ith' street? Dr . Lay hands on me?. To prison, where's George. Sir, what so ere you are, I do more then admire you. Dare we? een to their wezen pipe;, we know all their plots, they cannot squander with us, they have knavishly abused us, made only properties on's to advance their selves upon our shoulders, but they shall rue their abuses, this morning they are to be married. And I'll maintain it Knight, if sheele be true. Nay isle prove it: for the chain was but hid in the rose marry bank all this while, and thou gotst him out of prison to Conture for it who did it admirably fustianly, for indeed what need any others when he knew where it was. Well, would I had been born a Knave then, when I was born a Beggar, for if the truth were known, I think I was begotten when my Father had ever a penny in his purse. Look what ridiculous Raptures take hold of his wrinkles, Very proper. Turn the key I pray? How now creatures? whats a clock. George, look toot, I'll peach at Tyburn else. Where truly la, in deed la, he that will not swear, but lie, he that will not steal, But rob: pure Nicholas Saint Antlings.