Bust. Oh sweet Antonio.
Jul. Oh dear Antonio.
Bust. Yet it was nobly done of both parts: When he and
Lisauro met.
Jul. Oh, death Has parted 'em.
Bust. Welcome my mortal foe (says one,) Welcome my
deadly enemy (says th'other:) off go their doublets, they in
their shirts, and their swords stark naked; here lies Antonio,
here lies Lisauro: he comes upon him with an Embroccado,
that he puts by with a puncta reversa; Lisauro recoils me
two paces and some six inches back, takes his carrere, and
then, on.
Jul. Oh.
Bust. Runs Antonio quite thorow.
Jul. Oh villain.
Bust. Quite thorow between the arm and the body: so
yet he had no hurt at that bout.
Jul. Goodness be praised.