Tick. Hah, Mr. Galliard, as the Devil would have it;—I’m undone if he sees me. [He retires hastily, Gal. gropes for him.
Gal. Where are you, Fop? Buffoon! Knight!
[Tickletext retiring hastily runs against Octavio, who is just entering, almost beats him down; Oct. strikes him a good blow, beats him back and draws: Tick, gets close up in a corner of the Stage; Oct. gropes for him, as Gal. does, and both meet and fight with each other.
—What, dare you draw,—you have the impudence to be valiant then in the dark, [they pass.] I wou’d not kill the Rogue,—’Sdeath, you can fight then, when there’s a Woman in the case!
Oct. I hope ‘tis Fillarnour; [Aside.] You’ll find I can, and possibly may spoil your making Love to night.
Gal. Egad, Sweet-heart, and that may be, one civil Thrust will do’t;— and ‘twere a damn’d rude thing to disappoint so fine a Woman,—therefore I’ll withdraw whilst I’m well. [He slips out.
Enter Sir Signal, with a Masquerading Coat over his Clothes, without a Wig or Crevat, with a dark Lanthorn.
Sir Sig. Well, I have most neatly escap’d my Tutor; and in this disguise defy the Devil to claim his own.—Ah, Caspeto de Deavilo;— What’s that?
[Advancing softly, and groping with his hands, meets the point of Oct. Sword, as he is groping for Gal.
Oct. Traitor, darest thou not stand my Sword?