ty Ironsides! See here
Are some right honest faces I have known
From childhood, and they'll follow me to death,
If needed.--Let the paltry Scot go hence,
And even Fairfax rein his charger back--
We'll on unto the breach. The Lord Himself
Will ride in thunder with our mail-clad host:
The proudest head that ever wore a crown
Shall not withstand us.--Strike! and spare not! Ho!
Down with the curs'd of God!

_Soldiers._ A Cromwell! Cromwell!
Let us come on!

_Crom._ The sun that stood in Heaven,
Until his beams grew red with two days' blood
Of slaughtered Canaan, shall see them flee
like chaff before us--

_Soldiers._ Joshua! cry aloud,
A Joshua!--

_Crom._ These gay Philistine lords
That fight for Dagon, will ye fly them, or
Hurl them and Dagon down?--

_Soldiers._ A Samson! Samson!

[_Distant cannon heard. Cheering from the Soldiers._]

_Will._ [_Aside._] Here's gory enthusiasm! Now
whilst every man is ready to preach individually on
his own account, and the whole collectively are about
to sing a psalm, I will endeavour to steal away
unperceived, lest any of them, imagining himself
somewhere between Deuteronomy and Kings, should take
it upon himself to proclaim that I come from Gibeon,
and so--

_Crom._ [_To William._] Hither! sirrah! It is well I
know the master that thou servest, or else thy back
had paid the license of thy speech. Tell him I would
speak with him two hours hence in his own quarters.
[_Exit William, U.E.L._] Good friend, [_to a soldier_] I
am thirsty in the flesh. Get me, I prithee, a cup of thine
ale. [_Soldier goes out._] [_To another soldier._] Give me
thy pipe, Ruxton! is it right Trinidado?--[_To them
all._] Think ye now, the generals fare better than ye
do--I mean now, Desborough or Rossiter, or our
brave Ireton?

_A Soldier._ Ay! do they. But just now we saw a
store of good things carried into Desborough's tent.
Lo! there goes Jepherson and Fight-the-good-Fight
Egerton this instant to feast on the fat things of the
earth. [_Here the soldier gives him a cup of ale._]

_Crom._ [_Pausing ere he drinks._] What is thy
name, friend?

_A Soldier._ [_Near._] Born-again Rumford.

_Crom._ A babe, I do protest, a babe of grace. See
you not, he cannot speak himself. [_Drinks, and
throws the remainder over Born-again Rumford's
beard. Returns the cup and prepares his pipe._] Now,
Born-again! I think thou art baptized again! [_The
soldiers laugh._]