Basilisco.
It is the fury of his horse, not the strength of his arm.
I would thou wouldst remit my oath,
That I might assail thy master.
Piston.
I give thee leave, go to thy destruction:
But, sirrah, where's thy horse?
Why, my page stands holding him by the bridle.
Piston.
Well, go, mount thee, go.
Basilisco.
I go, and fortune guide my lance.