SCENE VII.--_Plain.

GRIZZLE, FOODLE, REBELS.

_Griz._ Thus far our arms with victory are crown'd; For, though we have not fought, yet we have found No enemy to fight withal.[179]

_Food._ Yet I, Methinks, would willingly avoid this day, This first of April to engage our foes.[180]

_Griz._ This day, of all the days of the year, I'd choose, For on this day my grandmother was born. Gods! I will make Tom Thumb an April-fool; Will teach his wit an errand it ne'er knew,[181] And send it post to the Elysian shades.

_Food._ I'm glad to find our army is so stout, Nor does it move my wonder less than joy.

_Griz._ What friends we have, and how we came so strong,[182] I'll softly tell you as we march along.