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Fut. Aye, this is brave indeed!

Guz. Our cloke, whose cape is

Larded with peärls, which the Indian cacique
Presented to our countryman De Cortez,
For ransom of his life; rated in value
At thirteen thousand pistolets; the guerdon
Of our achievement, when we rescued
The infanta from the boar, in single duel,
Near to the Austrian forest, with this rapier,
This only, very, naked, single rapier.
Fut. Top and top-gallant brave!

Guz. We will appear,

Before our Amoretta, like the issue
Of our progenitors.

Fut. Imagine so,

And that this rich suit of imagination

Is on already now :-here stands your Amoretta, Make your approach and court her.

Guz. Lustre of beauty,

Not to affright your tender soul with horror,
We may descend to tales of peace and love,
Soft whispers fitting ladies' closets; for
Thunder of cannon, roaring smoke and fire,
As if hell's maw had vomited confusion,
The clash of steel, the neighs of barbed steeds,
Wounds spouting blood, towns capering in the air,
Castles push'd down, and cities plough'd with
swords,

Become great Guzman's oratory best,

Who, though victorious, (and during life

Must be,) yet now grants parley to thy smiles. Fut. S'foot, Don, you talk too big, you make her tremble;

Do you not see't imaginarily?

I do, as plainly as you saw the death

Of the Austrian boar; she rather hears
Of feasting than of fighting; take her that
Guz. Yes, we will feast;-my queen, my em-

press, saint,

way.

Shalt taste no delicates but what are drest
With costlier spices than the Arabian bird
Sweetens her funeral bed with; we will riot
With every change of meats, which may renew
Our blood unto a spring, so pure, so high,
That from our pleasures shall proceed a race
Of sceptre-bearing princes, who at once
Must reign in every quarter of the globe.

Fut. Can more be said by one that feeds on herring

And garlick constantly?

Guz. Yes, we will feast

[Aside.

Fut. Enough! she's taken, and will love you

now,

As well in buff, as your imagined bravery.
Your dainty ten-times drest buff, with this lan-

guage,

Bold man of arms, shall win upon her, doubt not,
Beyond all silken puppetry. Think no more
Of your "mockadoes, callamancoes, quellios,
Pearl - larded capes, and diamond - button'd
breeches;

Leave such poor outside helps to puling lovers,
Such as Fulgoso, your weak rival, is,
That starveling-brain'd companion; appear you,
At first at least, in your own warlike fashion:
pray be ruled, and change not a thread about
Guz. The humour takes; for I, sir, am a man
Affects not shifts: I will adventure thus.

I

you.

Fut. Why, so! you carry her from all the world. I'm proud my stars design'd me out an instrument In such an high employment.

Guz. Gravely spoken;

You may be proud on't.

Enter, on the opposite side, FULGOSO and PIERO.

Ful. What is lost is lost,

Money is trash, and ladies are et cæteras,

Play's play, luck's luck, fortune's an-I know what;
You see the worst of me, and what's all this now?
Piero. A very spark, I vow; you will be stiled
Fulgoso the invincible. But did

The fair Spinella lose an equal part?
How much in all, d'you say?

Ful. Bare three-score ducats,

Thirty a-piece, we need not care who know it. She play'd; I went her half, walk'd by, and whistled

After

my usual manner thus-unmoved, [Whistles, As no such thing had ever been, as it were, Although I saw the winners share my money: His lordship and an honest gentleman Purs'd it, but not so merrily as I

Whistled it off.

Piero. A noble confidence!

Fut. D'you note your rival?
Guz. With contempt I do.

Ful. I can forego things nearer than my gold,
Allied to my affections, and my blood;
Yea, honour, as it were, with the same kind
Of careless confidence, and come off fairly

Too, as it were.

VOL. II.

D

Piero. But not your love, Fulgoso.

Ful. No, she's inherent, and mine own past

losing.

Piero. It tickles me to think with how much

state,

You, as it were, did run at tilt in love,

Before your Amoretta.

Ful. Broke my lance.

Piero. Of wit, of wit!

Ful. I mean so, as it were,

And laid, flat on her back, both horse and woman. Piero. Right, as it were.

Ful. What else, man, as it were?

Guz. [crossing over to FUL.] Did you do this to her? dare you to vaunt

Your triumph, we being present? um, ha, um.
[FULGOSO whistles the Spanish Pavin.
Fut. What think you, Don, of this brave man?
Guz. A man!

It is some truss of reeds, or empty cask,

In which the wind with whistling sports itself. Fut. Bear up, sir, he's your rival, budge not from him

An inch; your grounds are honour.

Piero. Stoutly ventured,

Don, hold him to't.

Ful. 'Protest, a fine conceit,

A very fine conceit; and thus I told her,
That for mine own part, if she lik'd me, so!
If not, not; for "my duck, or doe," said I,
"It is no fault of mine that I am noble:
Grant it; another may be noble, too,

And then we're both one noble ;" better still!Hab-nab's good; wink and choose; if one must have her,

The other goes without her,-best of all !—
My spirit is too high to fight for woman,
I am too full of mercy to be angry;

A foolish generous quality, from which
No might of man can beat me, I'm resolv'd.
Guz. Hast thou a spirit then, ha? speaks thy

weapon

Toledo language, Bilboa, or dull Pisa?
If an Italian blade, or Spanish metal,
Be brief, we challenge answer.

Fut. Famous Don.

Ful. What does he talk? my weapon speaks no language,

'Tis a Dutch iron truncheon.

Guz. Dutch!

Fut. And, if need be,

"Twill maul one's hide, in spite of who says nay. Guz. Dutch to a Spaniard! hold me.

Ful. Hold me too,

Sirrah, if thou'rt my friend, for I love no fighting;
Yet hold me, lest in pity I fly off:

If I must fight, I must; in a scurvy quarrel
I defy he's and she's: twit me with Dutch!
Hang Dutch and French, hang Spanish and Italians,
Christians and Turks. Pew-waw, all's one to me!
I know what's what, I know upon which side
My bread is butter'd.

Guz. Butter'd? Dutch again!

You come not with intention to affront us?

Ful. Front me no fronts; if thou be'st angry, squabble

Here's my defence, and thy destruction.

[Whistles a charge. If friends, shake hands, and go with me to dinner.

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