CAPT. POUTS. I will kill two men for you; till then I owe my life to you, and if ever racks, Strappadoes, wheel, or any torturous engine, Even from the Roman yoke to the Scotch boot,[51] Force me discover you or her to law, Pray God the merchant may respire again. But what a villain have I been to wrong her! Did she not tell you how I injur'd her? STRANGE. She said you challeng'd her, and publicly Told you had lain with her; but truth's no wrong. CAPT. POUTS. Truth! 'twas more false than hell, and you shall see me (As well as I can repent of any sin) Ask her forgiveness for wounding of her name, And 'gainst the world recover her lost fame. Kind soul! would I could weep to make amends! Why, I did slander her at the church-door. STRANGE. The more base villain thou. [_Strike him._ CAPT. POUTS. Ha! what's the news? STRANGE. Thou unspeakable rascal! thou, a soldier! A captain of the suburbs, a poor foist,[52] That with thy slops and cat-a-mountain face, Thy bladder-chops and thy robustious words, Fright'st the poor whore, and terribly dost exact A weekly subsidy, twelvepence apiece, Whereon thou liv'st; and on my conscience, Thou snapp'st besides with cheats and cutpurses. CAPT. POUTS. Heart! this is some railing poet. Why, you rogue! STRANGE. Thou rogue--far worse than rogues--thou slanderer! CAPT. POUTS. Thou worse than slanderous rogues; thou murderer! STRANGE. 'Tis well-remember'd: I will cut thy throat, To appease that merchant's soul, which ne'er will rest Till some revenge be taken on thy tongue. CAPT. POUTS. I'll kill thee first, and in thy vital flood Wash my hands clean of that young merchant's blood. [_Fight._ STRANGE. You fight, as if you had fought afore. I can still hold my sword: come on, sir. CAPT. POUTS. 'Zoons! can you ward so well? I think you are One of the noble science of defence. STRANGE. True, o' th' science of noble defence I am, That fight in safeguard of a virtuous name. [_Cadit_ CAPTAIN POUTS. CAPT. POUTS. O, now I understand you, and you stand over me. My hurts are not mortal, but you have the better. If your name be Worldly, be thankful for your fortune. STRANGE. Give me thy sword, or I will kill thee. CAPT. POUTS. Some wiser than some! I love my reputation well, yet I am not so valiant an ass but I love my life better. There's my sword. STRANGE. Then get upon my back: come, all shall be well. I'll carry thee unto a surgeon first, And then unto thy wench. Come, we are friends. CAPT. POUTS. God-a-mercy. 'Zoons! methinks I see myself in Moorfields, upon a wooden leg, begging threepence.[53]