Sir LUCIUS Is it for muskets or small field-pieces? Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave those things to me.—Stay now—I'll show you.—[Measures paces along the stage.] There now, that is a very pretty distance—a pretty gentleman's distance.
ACRES Zounds! we might as well fight in a sentry-box! I tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther he is off, the cooler I shall take my aim.
Sir LUCIUS Faith! then I suppose you would aim at him best of all if he was out of sight!
ACRES
No, Sir Lucius; but I should think forty or eight-and-thirty yards——
Sir LUCIUS Pho! pho! nonsense! three or four feet between the mouths of your pistols is as good as a mile.
ACRES Odds bullets, no!—by my valour! there is no merit in killing him so near; do, my dear Sir Lucius, let me bring him down at a long shot:—a long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love me!
Sir LUCIUS
Well, the gentleman's friend and I must settle that.—But tell me now,
Mr. Acres, in case of an accident, is there any little will or
commission I could execute for you?
ACRES
I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius—but I don't understand——
Sir LUCIUS Why, you may think there's no being shot at without a little risk—and if an unlucky bullet should carry a quietus with it—I say it will be no time then to be bothering you about family matters.
ACRES
A quietus!