Yet, of all their jackets, not one have I known
To please me like this steel coat of my own.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
Well--that now is what I can scarcely say.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
In the world, a man who would make his way,
Must plague and bestir himself night and day.
To honor and place if he choose the road,
He must bend his back to the golden load.
And if home-delights should his fancy please,
With children and grandchildren round his knees,
Let him follow an honest trade in peace.
I've no taste for this kind of life--not I!
Free will I live, and as freely die.
No man's spoiler nor heir will I be--
But, throned on my nag, I will smile to see
The coil of the crowd that is under me.

FIRST YAGER.
Bravo!--that's as I've always done.

FIRST ARQUEBUSIER.
In truth, sirs, it may be far better fun
To trample thus over your neighbor's crown.

FIRST CUIRASSIER.
Comrade, the times are bad of late--
The sword and the scales live separate.