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Oh, the Bourbon! the Bourbon[236]!
The Bourbon for aye!
Of our song bear the burden!
And fire, fire away!
With Spain for the vanguard,
Our varied host comes; 160
And next to the Spaniard
Beat Germany's drums;
And Italy's lances
Are couched at their mother;
But our leader from France is,
Who warred with his brother.
Oh, the Bourbon! the Bourbon!
Sans country or home,
We'll follow the Bourbon,
To plunder old Rome. 170

_Caes. _ An indifferent song
For those within the walls, methinks, to hear.

_Arn. _ Yes, if they keep to their chorus. But here comes
The general with his chiefs and men of trust[dj].
A goodly rebel.
_Enter the Constable_ BOURBON _"cum suis," etc. , etc. _

_Phil. _ How now, noble Prince,
You are not cheerful?

_Bourb. _ Why should I be so?

_Phil. _ Upon the eve of conquest, such as ours,
Most men would be so.

_Bourb. _ If I were secure!

_Phil. _ Doubt not our soldiers. Were the walls of adamant,
They'd crack them. Hunger is a sharp artillery. 180

_Bourb. _ That they will falter is my least of fears.