Bow. Do; have at you in earnest. S. George, you rogue!
Alarum; fight. Bowyer kills him.
Bow. So, there's for your prolixities, there's for Thomasin. The Thornbackly slave! and he were made of anything but gristles, I am a pumpian. 'Shart he had no mettle in him; yet how the villayne crak't[152] and dominierd when he was living: ah, sirra, never gryn for the matter, tis Captayne Bowyer that speaks it. When thou meetst the great Devill, commend me to him and say I sent him thee for a new years gift. And there's one Sarlaboys to, as arrant a blood-sucker and as notable a coward as ever drew weapon in a bawdy house, he carryes my marke about him. If Dicke Bowyer be not writ a bountifull benefactor in hell for my good deeds in sending thither such Cannibals, I am a rabbit sucker[153]: yet I scorne to vaunt of my deeds, too. They sound a retreat. Farewell, Peter, and learne hereafter what it is to be rivall to an English gentleman, Cavaliero Bowyer, one of the nine worthyes.
A retreyt. Enter at one dore Fraunce, Flaunders, and
Souldiers: at the other dore Navar, Bowyer and Souldiers.
Lew. Navar, why have you sounded a retreyt? Will your proud heart decline and call us lord?
Nav. We thought by the faynt language of your drums Fraunce would have knowne his errour and beg'd peace.
Lew. Fraunce beg a peace!
Nav. Navar call you his Lord!
Flan. Why did you cease the fight and sound retreat.
Bow. Not we by this beard, not we by the life of Pharo[154].