FRIAR. Say'st thou me so, lad? lend him thine,
For in this bush here lieth mine.
Now will I try this new-come guest.
SCATH. I am his first man, Friar Tuck,
And if I fail, and have no luck,
Then thou with him shalt have a pluck.
FRIAR. Be it so, Scathlock. Hold thee, lad,
No better weapons can be had:
The dew doth them a little rust;
But, hear ye, they are tools of trust.[239]
JOHN. Gramercy, Friar, for this gift,
And if thou come unto my shrift,
I'll make thee call those fellows fools
That on their foes bestow such tools.
SCATH. Come, let's to't.
[Fight, and the FRIAR looks on.
FRIAR. The youth is deliver[240] and light,
He presseth Scathlock with his might:
Now, by my beads, to do him right,
I think he be some tried knight.
SCATH. Stay, let us breathe!
JOHN. I will not stay;
If you leave, Friar, come away.
SCATH. I prythee, Friar, hold him play.