_Scil_. By the illuminate welkin not a word till my mouth was full of blood, and so made my words foule. _Citty wife_. Is not this Gentleman hurt too? _Serv_. Onelye the extravagant Artire[266] of my arme is brused. _Cittie wi_. See, see, the extravagant of his arme is brused to. Alas, how could ye quarrell so? _Serv_. I will demonstrate: in the defence of the generous youth I did appugne my adverse, let violently flie. _Cittie wife_. Ah good hearts! would I had stood between you, when he let flie so violently. _Ser_. We voide of hostile armes. _Hostis_. I, if they had had horses, they had sav'd their armes. _Serv_. Be capable, I meane, void of armorie. _Citty-wife_. Untill ye had armor on. _Serv_. Had I bene accompanied, with my Toledo or morglay.[267] _Cittie wife_. I, your Dogge or Bitch. _Serv_. Continue, I beseech, I meane my sword, sole lye my sword. _Cittie wife_. Or solely your sword, better a bad toole then none at all. _Serv_. In the concourse-- _Cittie w_. Nay, the concourse will light on him for it, I warrant. _Serv_. I, for the tuition of my Capitall, did mount my Semisphere, three degrees, that as a strong, & stony guard did defend my Capitall. _Citty w_. Twas well ye kept him out, for if he had entered on your stony Guard, he would have spoilede your Capitall. _Serv_. In fine, being mortally assaild, he did preambulate [_sic_] or walk off. _Scil_. Yes, faith, he did preambulate, and walke mee finely. _Cittie w_. Good heartes, how many were there of them? _Serv_. About the number of seaven. _Scil_. I, there was seaven. _Serv_. Or eight. _Scil_. Or eight. _Serv_. Rather more. _Citty w_. I, more at least, I warrant ye. _Hostis_. Alasse ye cannot chuse but be more hurt, but ile search you throughly, be assured. _Citty w_. And if she cannot helpe ye fewe can; shee knowes what belongs to a Tent,[268] or a bruse, and experience is good in those cases. _Serv_. I have a concupiscent forme of trust in your skil, it will malladise. _Citty wi_. I, feare not, put both your concupisences in me for that matter. _Serv_. The generous will disburse coynage for satisfaction of your metaphisicall endevour. _Scil_. Yes, yes, I will discharge all. _Cittie wife_. Wee make no doubt of that; come into a chamber, ye shall lye downe awhile; perhaps youle bee stiffe anon, then you shall use your legges, the more you strive with it the better. Alas, good hearts! [_Exeunt_. _Phy_. Sol, sol, la! Tapster, give attendance! Gentlemen, I hope all we are friends, the welkin is skie colour still, and men must grow by degrees; you must pardon me, I must sp--speak my minde. _Grac_. The uttermost of your minde at this time cannot be offensive.