Ralph. Farewell, fair lady, and your tender squire.
If pricking through these deserts, I do hear
Of any trait'rous knight, who, through his guile
Hath light upon your casket and your purse,
I will despoil him of them and restore them.
Mist. Mer. I thank your worship.
[Exit with Michael.
Ralph. Dwarf, bear my shield; squire, elevate my lance,
And now farewell, you knight of holy Bell.
Cit. Ay, ay, Ralph, all is paid.