"Nay, marry, what do that matter? we know Master Lisle's face is ruddy enough inside--"
"Oh, ay! I don't doubt. We's mostly ruddy inside, but David was ruddy outside."
"Marry! and good lack for your poor wits, Master Paxhulle! I don't mean his insides, but inside his helmet--but look at that little damsel with the large eyes. What's she doing?"
"Which? What, that little wench next the rough-looking varlet there?"
"Ay, that's her--she's making signs to Master Lisle surely."
"Well, now, so it seems. But he don't take no notice."
"What a state she is getting in! she'll begin crying soon. Poor little thing, be there no one to notice it for her?"
"Why, you see, Master Lisle is that cased in in his iron harness he couldn't see Bevis o' Hampton himself, or the giant Ascupart neither, if they was i' this crowd, so how is it likely he'd see a small wench like that?"
"Couldn't you, Master Paxhulle, go and jog his arm?"
"What, and get rapped over the costard by the Marshal's men?--not I."