Gert. But this, and then farewell.
Gera. Thy company[189] is heaven, thy absence hell.
W. Rash. Lord, who'd think it?
[Aside.]
Joyce. Come, wench.
[Exeunt omnes.
Enter Spendall and Staines. Tothill Fields.
Spend. This ground is firm and even, I'll go no farther.
Staines. This be the place then; and prepare you, sir;
You shall have fair play for your life of me,
For, look, sir, I'll be open-breasted to you.
Spend. Shame light on him that thinks
His safety lieth in a French doublet.
Nay, I would strip myself, would comeliness
Give sufferance to the deed, and fight with thee
As naked as a Mauritanian Moor.
Staines. Give me thy hand; by my heart, I love thee.
Thou art the highest-spirited citizen
That ever Guildhall took notice of.
Spend. Talk not what I am, until you have tried me.