Wife. He's come again. Lift him up.
Omnes. How fares your lordship?
Fee. O friends, you have wrong'd my spirit to call it back:
I was ev'n in Elysium at rest.
Well. But why, sir, did you swoon?
Fee. Well, though I die, Mister Welltried, before all these I do forgive you, because you were ignorant of my infirmity. O sir! is't not up yet? I die again! Put up, now, whilst I wink, or I do wink for ever.
Well. 'Tis up, my lord; ope your eyes: but I pray, tell me, is this antipathy 'twixt bright steel and you natural, or how grew it.
Fee. I'll tell you, sir: anything bright and edged works thus strongly with me. Your hilts, now, I can handle as boldly, look you else.
Hus.[79] Nay, never blame my lord, Master Welltried, for I know a great many will swoon at the sight of a shoulder of mutton or a quarter of lamb. My lord may be excused, then, for a naked sword.
Well. This lord and this knight in dog-collars would make a fine brace of beagles.
Maid. But, on my faith, 'twas mightily over-seen of your father, not to bring you up to foils—or if he had bound you 'prentice to a cutler or an ironmonger.