La Gloire. Coward! 'Sblood! I'll run into the English entrenchments! I'll go back, and tweak the fat centinel by the nose!—I'll——
[Still louder.
Ribau. Peace! I command you, La Gloire! I command you, as your officer.
La Gloire. I know my duty to my officer, my lord!
[Sulkily.
Ribau. Then move not:—here, sir, on this spot.
[Pointing forward.
La Gloire. [Going to the Spot.] Coward!
Ribau. Speak not, for your life!
La Gloire. Cow——Umph!