RACHEL [As Ravensbane rises to his feet.] At last!
DICKON Look! he is restored.
RACHEL God be thanked!
DICKON My lord, Mistress Rachel has saved your life.
RAVENSBANE [Taking Rachel’s hand.] Mistress Rachel is mine; we are ours.
RICHARD Dare to repeat that.
RAVENSBANE [Looking at Rachel.] Her eyes are mine.
RICHARD [Flinging his glove in his face.] And that, sir, is yours. I believe such is the proper fashion in England. If your lordship’s last duelling wound is sufficiently healed, perhaps you will deign a reply.
RACHEL Richard! Your lordship!
RAVENSBANE [Stoops, picks up the glove, pockets it, bows to Rachel, and steps close to Richard.] Permit me!