Col. 'Tis done, Sir:
And may Heavens goodness ever dwell about ye.
Mir. Wait there till I come home.
Col. I shall not fail, Sir. [Exeunt.
Scæna Tertia.
Enter Mountferrat with a Letter, and Abdella.
Abd. 'Tis strange it should be so, that your high mettle
Should check thus poorly, dully; most unmanly.
Mount. Let me alone.
Abd. Thus leadenly?
Mount. —— [t]ake ye.
Abd. At every childish fear? at every shadow?
Are you Mountferrat that have done such deeds?
Wrought through such bloudy fields, men shake to speak of?
Can ye go back? is there a safety left yet
But fore-right? is not ruine round about ye?
Have ye not still these arms, that Sword, that heart-whole?
Is't not a man ye fight with, and an old man,
A man half kill'd already? Am not I here?
As lovely in my black to entertain thee,
As high and full of heat to meet thy pleasures?