advice.
Nay, let her languish
A drop of blood a day; and, being aged,
Die of this folly!
Fie! you must give way.
Here is your servant. How now, sir! What news?
My lord your son drew on my master.
Ha!
No harm, I trust, is done?
There might have been,
But that my master rather play'd than fought
And had no help of anger: they were parted
By gentlemen at hand.
I am very glad on't.
Your son's my father's friend; he takes his part.
To draw upon an exile! O brave sir!
I would they were in Afric both together;
Myself by with a needle, that I might prick
The goer-back. Why came you from your master?
On his command: he would not suffer me
To bring him to the haven; left these notes
Of what commands I should be subject to,
When 't pleased you to employ me.
This hath been
Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour
He will remain so.
I humbly thank your highness.
Pray, walk awhile.
About some half-hour hence,
I pray you, speak with me: you shall at least
Go see my lord aboard: for this time leave me.
Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the
violence of action hath made you reek as a
sacrifice: where air comes out, air comes in:
there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.
If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?
No, 'faith; not so much as his patience.
Hurt him! his body's a passable carcass, if he be
not hurt: it is a thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt.
His steel was in debt; it went o' the
backside the town.
The villain would not stand me.
No; but he fled forward still, toward your face.
Stand you! You have land enough of your own: but
he added to your having; gave you some ground.
As many inches as you have oceans. Puppies!
I would they had not come between us.
So would I, till you had measured how long
a fool you were upon the ground.
And that she should love this fellow and refuse me!
If it be a sin to make a true election, she
is damned.
Sir, as I told you always, her beauty and her brain
go not together: she's a good sign, but I have seen
small reflection of her wit.
She shines not upon fools, lest the
reflection should hurt her.
Come, I'll to my chamber. Would there had