Walter. Know him! Oh, yes!
He makes this wild wood, here, a past'ral grove.
He is a love-lorn shepherd; an Orlando,
Carving love-rhymes and ciphers on the trees,
And warbling dying ditties of a lady
He calls false Geraldine.
Geraldine. O my dear Percy!
How has one sad mistake marr'd both our joys!
[Aside.
Walter. Yet though a shepherd, he can wield a sword
As easy as a crook.
Geraldine. Oh! he is brave.
Walter. As Julius Cæsar, sir, or Hercules;
Or any other hero that you will,
Except our captain.
Geraldine. Is your captain, then,
Without his peer?
Walter. Aye, marry is he, sir,
Sans equal in this world. I've follow'd him
Half o'er the globe, and seen him do such deeds!
His shield is blazon'd with three Turkish heads.
Geraldine. Well, sir.
Walter. And I, boy, saw him win the arms;
Oh, 'twas the bravest act!