Inst. Hark! he dieth!
Where strength lacketh, policy supplieth.
Here Wit cometh in and bringeth in the head upon his sword, and sayeth as followeth:
[Wit.] I can ye thank, sirs! this was well done!
Study. Nay, yours is the deed!
Dil. To you is the thank!
Inst. I can ye thank, all; this was well done!
Wit. How say ye, man? Is this field well won?
Confidence cometh running in.
[Conf.] Yea, by my faith, so sayeth your dear heart.
Wit. Why, where is she, that here now thou art?