Ingen. O scurvy lord!
It had been a cleanlier shift than this to have had
It hinder'd by command, he being a lord.
But I will find him.
Enter Lord Proudly.
Proudly. You see, valiant sir, I have got loose
For all your stratagem. O rogue! are you there?
[Proudly stabs his sister.
Ingen. Most ignoble lord!
[Ingen stabs Proudly in the left arm.
Proudly. Coward! thou didst this,
That I might be disabled for the fight,
Or that thou mightst have some excuse to shun me,
But 'tis my left arm thou hast lighted on.
I have no second: here are three of you.
If all do murder me, your consciences
Will more than hang you, damn you. Come, prepare!
Ingen. Brother, walk off, and take the boy away.
Is he hurt much?
Bro. Nothing, or very little.
[Proudly thrusts the boy out.
Ingen. I'll bind your wound up first: your loss of blood
May sooner make you faint.
Proudly. Ingen, thou art
A worthy gentleman: for this courtesy,
Go to, I'll save thy life. Come on, sir!
[A pass or two.
I'll cut your codpiece point, sir, with this thrust,
And then down go your breeches.