OMNES. How fares your lordship? FEE. O friends, you have wrong'd my spirit to call it back: I was ev'n in Elysium at rest. WELL. But why, sir, did you swoon? FEE. Well, though I die, Mister Welltried, before all these I do forgive you, because you were ignorant of my infirmity. O sir! is't not up yet? I die again! Put up, now, whilst I wink, or I do wink for ever. WELL. 'Tis up, my lord; ope your eyes: but I pray, tell me, is this antipathy 'twixt bright steel and you natural, or how grew it. FEE. I'll tell you, sir: anything bright and edged works thus strongly with me. Your hilts, now, I can handle as boldly, look you else. HUS.[79] Nay, never blame my lord, Master Well-tried, for I know a great many will swoon at the sight of a shoulder of mutton or a quarter of lamb. My lord may be excused, then, for a naked sword. WELL. This lord and this knight in dog-collars would make a fine brace of beagles. MAID. But, on my faith, 'twas mightily over-seen of your father, not to bring you up to foils--or if he had bound you 'prentice to a cutler or an ironmonger. FEE. Ha, pox! hang him, old gouty fool! He never brought me up to any lordly exercise, as fencing, dancing, tumbling, and such like; but, forsooth, I must write and read, and speak languages, and such base qualities, fit for none but gentlemen. Now, sir, would I tell him, "Father, you are a count, I am a lord. A pox o' writing and reading, and languages! Let me be brought up as I was born." SUB. But how, my lord, came you first not to endure the sight of steel? FEE. Why, I'll tell you, sir. When I was a child, an infant, an innocent[80]-- MAID. 'Twas even now. [_Aside._] FEE. I being in the kitchen, in my lord my father's house, the cook was making minced pies: so, sir, I standing by the dresser, there lay a heap of plums. Here was he mincing: what did me I, sir, being a notable little witty coxcomb, but popped my hand just under his chopping-knife, to snatch some raisins, and so was cut o'er the hand, and never since could I endure the sight of any edge-tool. WID. Indeed, they are not fit for you, my lord. And now you are all so well satisfied in this matter, pray, ladies, how like you this my gentlewoman? MAID. In troth, madam, exceedingly well, I. If you be provided, pray, let me have her. WIFE. It should be my request, but that I am full. WID. What can you do? What's her name, my lord? FEE. Her name? I know not. What's her name, Master Welltried? WEL. Her name? 'Slid, tell my lady your name. BOLD. Mistress Mary Princox, forsooth. WID. Mistress Mary Princox. She has wit, I perceive that already. Methinks she speaks as if she were my lord's brood. BOLD. Brood, madam? 'Tis well known I am a gentlewoman. My father was a man of five hundred per annum, and he held something _in capite_ too. WEL. So does my lord something. FEE. Nay, by my troth, what I hold _in capite_ is worth little or nothing.