neglectingly

My liege , I did deny no prisoners .
But I remember , when the fight was done ,
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil ,
Breathless and faint , leaning upon my sword ,
Came there a certain lord , neat and trimly dressed ,
Fresh as a bridegroom , and his chin new reaped
Showed like a stubble land at harvest home .
He was perfumèd like a milliner ,
And ’twixt his finger and his thumb he held
A pouncet box , which ever and anon
He gave his nose and took ’t away again ,
Who therewith angry , when it next came there ,
Took it in snuff ; and still he smiled and talked .
And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by ,
He called them untaught knaves , unmannerly ,
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility .
With many holiday and lady terms
He questioned me , amongst the rest demanded
My prisoners in your Majesty’s behalf .
I then , all smarting with my wounds being cold ,
To be so pestered with a popinjay ,
Out of my grief and my impatience
Answered neglectingly I know not what —
He should , or he should not ; for he made me mad
To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman
Of guns , and drums , and wounds — God save the
mark ! —
And telling me the sovereignest thing on Earth earth
Was parmacety for an inward bruise ,
And that it was great pity , so it was ,
This villainous saltpeter should be digged
Out of the bowels of the harmless Earth earth ,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed
So cowardly , and but for these vile guns
He would himself have been a soldier .
This bald unjointed chat of his , my lord ,
I answered indirectly , as I said ,
And I beseech you , let not his report
Come current for an accusation
Betwixt my love and your high Majesty .