Wag. Unfortunate damsel! why dost thou love
Where thou hast sworn it never to reveal?
Maybe he would vouchsafe to look on thee.
Because he is a knight, is it thy terror?
Why, peradventure, he is Knighthood's Mirror[56].
Pen. D'ye hear, Sir Abraham?
Abra. Yes, with standing tears.
Wag. Bevis[57] on Arundel, with Morglay in hand,
Near to my knight in prowess doth not stand.
They say Sir Bevis slew both boar and dragon,
My knight for that can drink up a whole flagon,
A thing as famous now amongst our men,
As killing monsters was accounted then.
'Tis not thy leg, no, were it twice as good,
Throws me into this melancholy mood;
Yet let me say and swear, in a cross-garter
Paul's never show'd to eyes a lovelier quarter.
Abra. Ay, but all this while she does not name me: she may mean somebody else.
Pen. Mean somebody else! you shall hear her name you by and by.
Wag. Courteous Sir Abraham.
Pen. La ye there!
Wag. O, thy very name,
Like to a hatchet, cleaves my heart in twain.
When first I saw thee in those little breeches,
I laugh'd for joy, but when I heard thy speeches,
I smil'd downright, for I was almost frantic,
A modern knight should be so like an antic
In words and deeds. Those pinken-eyes[58] of thine,
For I shall ne'er be blest to call them mine——
Abra. Say not so, sweetheart.