Bar. I'll do it perfectly.
Enter Lopez.
Isa. Stand you still good Sir.
Bar. Rascal, slave, villain, take a house so poorly,
After thou hast wrong'd a Gentleman, a Soldier,
Base Poultroon boy, you will forsake your neast sirrah.
Lop. The matter, good sweet Captain?
Bart. Run-away rogue,
And take a house to cover thy base cowardize,
I'll whip ye, I'll so scourge ye. [Exit.
Lop. Mercy upon me,
What's all this matter wife?
Isab. Did you meet the mad man?
Lop. I never saw the Captain so provok'd yet.
Isab. Oh he's a Devil sure, a most bloody devil,
He follow'd a young Gentleman, his sword drawn,
With such a fury, how I shake to think on't,
And foyn'd, and slash'd at him, and swore he'd kill him,
Drove him up hither, follow'd him still bloodily,
And if I had not hid him, sure had slain him;
A merciless old man.