MR GOUR. Pale! Can ye blame me for it? I tell you true, An easy matter could not thus have moved me. Well, this resignment--and so forth--but, woman, This fortnight shall I not forget ye for it.-- Ha, ha, I see that roughness can do somewhat! I did not think, good faith, I could have set So sour a face upon it, and to her, My bed-embracer, my right bosom friend. I would not that she should have seen the letter-- As poor a man as I am--by my troth, For twenty pound: well, I am glad I have it. [_Aside_.] Ha, here's ado about a thing of nothing! What, stomach, ha! 'tis happy you're come down. [_Exit_. MRS GOUR. Well, crafty[297] fox, I'll hunt ye, by my troth, Deal ye so closely! Well, I see his drift: He would not let me see the letter, lest That I should cross the match; and I will cross it. Dick Coomes! _Enter_ COOMES. COOMES. Forsooth. MRS GOUR. Come hither, Dick; thou art a man I love, And one whom I have much in my regard. COOMES. I thank ye for it, mistress, I thank ye for it. MRS GOUR. Nay, here's my hand, I will do very much For thee, if e'er thou stand'st in need of me; Thou shalt not lack, whilst thou hast a day to live, Money, apparel-- COOMES. And sword and bucklers? MRS GOUR. And sword and bucklers too, my gallant Dick, So thou wilt use but this in my defence. [_Pointing to his sword_.] COOMES. This! no, faith, I have no mind to this; break my head, if this break not, if we come to any tough play. Nay, mistress, I had a sword, ay, the flower of Smithfield for a sword, a right fox,[298] i'faith; with that, and a man had come over with a smooth and a sharp stroke, it would have cried twang, and then, when I had doubled my point, trac'd my ground, and had carried my buckler before me like a garden-butt, and then come in with a cross blow, and over the pick[299] of his buckler two ells long, it would have cried twang, twang, metal, metal: but a dog hath his day; 'tis gone, and there are few good ones made now. I see by this dearth of good swords, that[300] dearth of sword-and-buckler fight begins to grow out:[301] I am sorry for it; I shall never see good manhood again, if it be once gone; this poking fight of rapier and dagger will come up then; then a man, a tall[302] man, and a good sword-and-buckler man, will be spitted like a cat or a coney; then a boy will be as good as a man, unless the Lord show mercy unto us; well, I had as lief be hang'd as live to see that day. Well, mistress, what shall I do? what shall I do?