Hakeswill:
What's to happen is, you will become proper soldiers. And draw tunics of the red bright light company of the South Essex, and you will hand in your precious rifle guns and draw proper muskets to go along with being proper dressed. Fit for soldiers at last!
[
speaks into his hat]
Hakeswill:
Never thought you'd see it, did you, Mother?
[
speaks to men]
Hakeswill:
You hate me, don't you? Well, I hate you.
[
speaks into his hat again]
Hakeswill:
I do, I do, I do. I hates 'em!
[
rounds on men]
Hakeswill:
Who said that? I heard that. Mad? Oh, no, I ain't mad. Not so's I don't know.
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