Cynthia's Revels - LightNovelsOnl.com
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AMO. You come not to give us the scorn, monsieur?
MER. Nor to be frighted with a face, signior. I have seen the lions. You must pardon me. I shall be loth to hazard a reputation with one that has not a reputation to lose.
AMO. How!
CRI. Meaning your pupil, sir.
ANA. This is that black devil there.
AMO. You do offer a strange affront, monsieur.
CRI. Sir, he shall yield you all the honour of a competent adversary, if you please to undertake him.
MER. I am prest for the encounter.
AMO. Me! challenge me!
ASO. What, my master, sir! 'Slight, monsieur, meddle with me, do you hear: but do not meddle with my master.
MER. Peace, good squib, go out.
CRI. And stink, he bids you.
ASO. Master!
AMO. Silence! I do accept him. Sit you down and observe. Me!
he never profest a thing at more charges.--Prepare yourself sir.
--Challenge me! I will prosecute what disgrace my hatred can dictate to me.
CRI. How tender a traveller's spleen is! Comparison to men that deserve least, is ever most offensive.
AMO. You are instructed in our chartel, and know our weapons?
MER. I appear not without their notice, sir.
ASO. But must I lose the prizes, master?
AMO. I will win them for you; be patient.--Lady, [TO MORIA.]
vouchsafe the tenure of this ensign.--Who shall be your stickler?
MER. Behold him. [POINTS TO CRITES.]
AMO. I would not wish you a weaker.--Sound, musics.--I provoke you at the Bare Accost. [A CHARGE.]
PHA. Excellent comely!
CRI. And worthily studied. This is the exalted foretop.
HED. O, his leg was too much produced.
ANA. And his hat was carried scurvily.
PHI. Peace; let's see the monsieur's Accost: Rare!
PHA. Sprightly and short.
ANA. True, it is the French courteau: he lacks but to have his nose slit.
HED. He does hop. He does bound too much. [A FLOURISH.]
AMO. The second bout, to conclude this weapon. [A CHARGE.]
PHA. Good, believe it!
PHI. An excellent offer!
CRI. This is called the solemn band-string.
HED. Foh, that cringe was not put home.
ANA. He makes a face like a stabb'd Lucrece.
ASO. Well, he would needs take it upon him, but would I had done it for all this. He makes me sit still here, like a baboon as I am.
CRI. Making villainous faces.
PHI. See, the French prepares it richly.
CRI. Ay, this is ycleped the Serious Trifle.
ANA. 'Slud, 'tis the horse-start out o' the brown study.
CRI. Rather the bird-eyed stroke, sir. Your observance is too blunt, sir. [A FLOURISH.]
AMO. Judges, award the prize. Take breath, sir. This bout hath been laborious.
ASO. And yet your critic, or your besongno, will think these things foppery, and easy, now!
CRI. Or rather mere lunacy. For would any reasonable creature make these his serious studies and perfections, much less, only live to these ends? to be the false pleasure of a few, the true love of none, and the just laughter of all?
HED. We must prefer the monsieur, we courtiers must be partial.
ANA. Speak, guardian. Name the prize, at the Bare Accost.
MOR. A pair of wall-eyes in a face forced.
ANA. Give the monsieur. Amorphus hath lost his eyes.
