[Undresses himself till he appears in a ridiculous Posture.
Pet. Ah, Monsieur, me sall run you two three times through de Body, and den you break a me head, what care I for dat?—Pox on his ignorance. [Aside.
Tick. Oh, ho, Sir, do your worst, Sir, do your worst, Sir.
[They put themselves into several Guards, and Tick. beats Pet. about the Stage.—Enter Gall. Fill. and Jul.
Pet. Ah, Monsieur, Monsieur, will you kill a me?
Tick. Ah, Monsieur, where be your Carts now, and your Horse, Mr. Monsieur, hah?—and your Single-Rapier, Mr. Monsieur, hah?—
Gal. Why, how now, Mr. Tickletext, what mortal Wars are these? Ajax and Ulysses contending for Achilles his Armour?
Pet. If I be not reveng’d on him, hang me. [Aside
Sir Sig. Ay, why, who the Devil wou’d have taken my Governor for so tall a man of hands? but Corpo de me, Mr. Galliard, I have not seen his Fellow.
Tick. Ah, Sir, time was, I wou’d have play’d ye a Match at Cudgels with e’er a Sophister in the College, but verily I have forgotten it; but here’s an Impudent Frenchman that wou’d have past Single-Rapier upon us.