“He shall eat his words—every foul word he uttered he shall swallow in the presence of Nell herself,” cried Dick, and then Nell recognised Sir Charles Sedley as the man who was standing panting, with a broken sword in his hand, by her side, facing Dick.
“For God's sake, Dick!—Sir Charles—what has happened?”
The courtier was too breathless to speak—he signified so much very pleasingly to Nell.
“The cowardly knave!” panted Dick. “But I swore that I'd make him eat his words, and by the Lord Harry, I'll keep my oath!”
“Sir Charles, pray—oh, Dick!”
“Dick me no Dicks, Nell, until this popinjay has gone down on his knees before you and asked your pardon for his foul words,” cried Dick. “Down you go, my gentleman, were you fifty times Sir Charles.”
“For heaven's sake, Nell, keep that fire-eater at a distance,” gasped Sir Charles; “he's fit for Bedlam!”
“Stand where you be, Dick,” said Nell. “What said Sir Charles Sedley to give you offence?”
“He said that you—no, I 'll hang in chains in Execution Dock before I repeat the lie—but he'll take it back, every word, if I have to wring his neck!”
Dick was with difficulty kept at a distance.