Sir Peter, rising.
They lied: and you lie, not for the first time.
What have you got there, fumbling up your sleeve,
A stolen purse?
Sir Lambert.
Nay, liar in your teeth!
Dead liar too; St. Denis and St. Lambert!
[Strikes at Sir Peter with a dagger.
Sir Peter, striking him flatlings with his axe.
How thief! thief! thief! so there, fair thief, so there,
St. George Guienne! glaives for the castellan!
You French, you are but dead, unless you lay
Your spears upon the earth. St. George Guienne!
Well done, John Curzon, how he has them now.
In the Castle.
John Curzon.
WHAT shall we do with all these prisoners, sir?