Dub. I am your friend and servant.
Struggle with me and take my Sword;
Noble Sir, make your way, you have slain an Officer.
Mont. Some one of them has certainly
Requited me; for I doe lose much blood.
1 Offic. Udsprecious, we have lost a brother, pursue the Gentleman.
2 Offic. I'll not meddle with him: you see what comes on't; besides I know he will be hang'd ere he be taken.
1 Offic. I tell thee yeoman he must be taken ere he be hanged; he is hurt in the guts, run afore therefore and know how his wife will rate his Sawsages a pound.
3 Offic. Stay brother, I may live, for surely I find I'm but hurt in the leg, a dangerous kick on the shin-bone. [Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.
Enter Madam Lamira, Madam le Orleans, Veramour.