Classic Poem

SCENE II.

Peascod , C ORPORAL , S OLDIERS , C OUNTRYMEN , S ERGEANT , F ILBERT .

SERGEANT.

What whining's this? — boys, see your guns well ramm'd.
You dog, die like a soldier — and be damn'd.

FILBERT.

My friend in ropes! — — —

PEASCOD.

— — — I should not thus be bound,
If I had Means, and could but raise five pound.
The cruel Corp'ral whisper'd in my ear,
Five pounds, if rightly tipt, would set me clear.

FILBERT.

Here — — — Peascod , take my pouch — 'tis all I own.
(For what is Means and life when Kitty 's gone!)
'Tis my press-money — — — can this silver fail?
'Tis all, except one sixpence spent in ale.
This had a ring for Kitty 's finger bought,
Kitty on me had by that token thought.
But for thy life, poor Tim , if this can do't;
Take it, with all my soul — — — thou'rt welcome to't.

1 COUNTRYMAN .

And take my fourteen pence — — —

2 COUNTRYMAN .

— — — And my cramp-ring.
Would, for thy sake, it were a better thing.

3 COUNTRYMAN .

And master Sergeant, take my box of copper.

4 COUNTRYMAN .

And my wife's thimble — — —

5 COUNTRYMAN .

— — — And this 'bacco-stopper.

SERGEANT.

No bribes. Take back your things — I'll have them not.

PEASCOD.

Oh! must I die? — — —

CHORUS of COUNTRYMEN.

— — — Oh! must poor Tim be shot!

PEASCOD.

But let me kiss thee first — — —