DANGLE.
Admirably managed, indeed!
PUFF.
Now, stand out of their way. Whisk. I thank thee, Fortune, that hast thus bestowed A weapon to chastise this insolent. [Takes up one of the swords.]
BEEFEATER.
I take thy challenge, Spaniard, and I thank thee, Fortune, too! [Takes up the other sword.]
DANGLE.
That’s excellently contrived!—It seems as if the two uncles had left their swords on purpose for them.
PUFF.
No, egad, they could not help leaving them. Whisk.
Vengeance and Tilburina!
BEEFEATER.
Exactly so—[They fight—and after the usual number of wounds given, WHISKERANDOS falls.]
DON FEROLO WHISKERANDOS.
O cursed parry!—that last thrust in tierce Was fatal.—Captain, thou hast fenced well! And Whiskerandos quits this bustling scene For all eter—
BEEFEATER.
—nity—he would have added, but stern death Cut short his being, and the noun at once!
PUFF.
Oh, my dear sir, you are too slow: now mind me.—Sir, shall I trouble you to die again? Whisk.
And Whiskerandos quits this bustling scene For all eter—
BEEFEATER.
—nity—he would have added,—