Part 6 (1/2)

BOB. Hang him, rook! he! why, he has no more judgment than a malt-horse. By St. George, I hold him the most peremptory absurd clown (one a them) in Christendom: I protest to you (as I am a gentleman and a soldier) I ne'er talk'd with the like of him: he has not so much as a good word in his belly, all iron, iron, a good commodity for a smith to make hob-nails on.

MAT. Ay, and he thinks to carry it away with his manhood still where he comes: he brags he will give me the bastinado, as I hear.

BOB. How, the bastinado? how came he by that word, trow?

MAT. Nay, indeed, he said cudgel me; I termed it so for the more grace.

BOB. That may be, for I was sure it was none of his word: but when, when said he so?

MAT. Faith, yesterday, they say, a young gallant, a friend of mine, told me so.

BOB. By the life of Pharaoh, an't were my case now, I should send him a challenge presently: the bastinado! come hither, you shall challenge him; I'll shew you a trick or two, you shall kill him at pleasure, the first stoccado if you will, by this air.

MAT. Indeed, you have absolute knowledge in the mystery, I have heard, sir.

BOB. Of whom? of whom, I pray?

MAT. Faith, I have heard it spoken of divers, that you have very rare skill, sir.

BOB. By heaven, no, not I, no skill in the earth: some small science, know my time, distance, or so, I have profest it more for n.o.blemen and gentlemen's use than mine own practise, I a.s.sure you.

Hostess, lend us another bed-staff here quickly: look you, sir, exalt not your point above this state at any hand, and let your poniard maintain your defence thus: give it the gentleman. So, sir, come on, oh, twine your body more about, that you may come to a more sweet comely gentlemanlike guard; so indifferent. Hollow your body more, sir, thus: now stand fast on your left leg, note your distance, keep your due proportion of time: oh, you disorder your point most vilely.

MAT. How is the bearing of it now, sir?

BOB. Oh, out of measure ill, a well-experienced man would pa.s.s upon you at pleasure.

MAT. How mean you pa.s.s upon me?

BOB. Why, thus, sir: make a thrust at me; come in upon my time; control your point, and make a full career at the body: the best-practis'd gentlemen of the time term it the pa.s.sado, a most desperate thrust, believe it.

MAT. Well, come, sir.

BOB. Why, you do not manage your weapons with that facility and grace that you should do, I have no spirit to play with you, your dearth of judgment makes you seem tedious.

MAT. But one venue, sir.

BOB. Fie! venue, most gross denomination as ever I heard: oh, the stoccado while you live, Signior, not that. Come, put on your cloak, and we'll go to some private place where you are acquainted, some tavern or so, and we'll send for one of these fencers, where he shall breathe you at my direction, and then I'll teach you that trick; you shall kill him with it at the first if you please: why, I'll learn you by the true judgment of the eye, hand, and foot, to control any man's point in the world; Should your adversary confront you with a pistol, 'twere nothing, you should (by the same rule) control the bullet, most certain, by Phoebus: unless it were hail-shot: what money have you about you, sir?

MAT. Faith, I have not past two s.h.i.+llings, or so.

BOB. 'Tis somewhat with the least, but come, when we have done, we'll call up Signior Prospero; perhaps we shall meet with Coridon his brother there.

[EXEUNT.]

ACT I. SCENE IV.

ENTER Th.o.r.eLLO, GIULIANO, PISO.

THO. Piso, come hither: there lies a note within, upon my desk; here, take my key: it's no matter neither, where's the boy?

PIS. Within, sir, in the warehouse.