Lam. CAn it be possible, that in six short hours
The subject still the same, so many habits
Should be remov'd? or this new Lucio, he
That yesternight was baffeld and disgrac'd,
And thank'd the man that did it, that then kneeld
And blubber'd like a woman, should now dare
On terms of honor seek reparation
For what he then appear'd not capable of?
Luc. Such miracles, men that dare do injuries
Live to their shames to see, and for punishment
And scourge to their proud follies.
Lam. Prethee leave me:
Had I my Page, or foot-man here to flesh thee,
I durst the better hear thee.
Luc. This scorn needs not:
And offer such no more.
Lam. Why say I should,
You'll not be angry?
Luc. Indeed I think I shall,
Would you vouchsafe to shew your self a Captain,
And lead a little farther, to some place
That's less frequented.
Lam. He looks pale.
Luc. If not,
Make use of this.
Lam. There's anger in his eyes too:
His gesture, voyce, behaviour, all new fashion'd;
Well, if it does endure in act the triall
Of what in show it promises to make good,
Ulysses Cyclops, Io's transformation,
Eurydice fetch from Hell, with all the rest
Of Ovids Fables, I'll put in your Creed;
And for proof, all incredible things may be,
Write down that Lucio, the coward Lucio,
The womanish Lucio fought.
Luc. And Lamorall,
The still imploy'd great duellist Lamorall,
Took his life from him.