RAY. Restore back mine. [_She kisses him._] So, go, pitch our tent, we'll Have a combat i' th' field of love with thee Philippa, ere we meet the foe: thou art A friendly enemy. How say you, lords? Does not my love appear Like to the issue of the brain of Jove, Governess of arms and arts, Minerva! Or a selected beauty from a troop of Amazons? LORDS. She is a mine of valour. PHIL. Lords, spare your praises till, like Bradamant, The mirror of our sex, I make the foe Of France and us crouch like a whelp, Awed by the heaving of his master's hand; My heart runs through my arm, and when I deal A blow, it sinks a soul. My sword flies nimbler than the bolts of Jove, And wounds as deep. Spain, thy proud host shall feel Death has bequeath'd his office to my steel. RAY. Come on, brave lords; upon your general's word, Philippa loves no parley like the sword. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ GIOVANNO, OLD TAILOR, VERMIN, _and two more_. GIO. Come, bullies, come; we must forsake the use of nimble shears, and now betake us to our Spanish needles, stiletto blades, and prove the proverb lies, lies in his throat: one tailor can erect sixteen, nay more, of upstart gentlemen, known by their clothes, and leave enough materials in hell to damn a broker. O. TAI. We must to the wars, my boys. VER. How, master, to the wars? O. TAI. Ay, to the wars, Vermin; what say'st thou to that? VER. Nothing, but that I had rather stay at home: O, the good penny-bread at breakfasts that I shall lose! Master, good master, let me alone to live with honest John, noble John Black. 2D TAI. Wilt thou disgrace thy worthy calling, Vermin? VER. No, but I am afraid my calling will disgrace me: I shall be gaping for my morning's loaf and dram of ale, I shall; and now and then look for a cabbage-leaf or an odd remnant to clothe my bashful buttocks. O. TAI. You shall. VER. Yes, marry; why, I hope poor Vermin must be fed, and will be fed, or I'll torment you. GIO. Master, I take privilege from your love to hearten on my fellows. O. TAI. Ay, ay, do, do, good boy. [_Exit._ GIO. Come, my bold fellows, let us eternise, For our country's good, some noble act, That may by time be regist'red at full: And as the year renews, so shall our fame Be fresh to after-times: the tailor's name, So much trod under and the scorn of all, Shall by this act be high, whilst others fall. 3D TAI. Come, Vermin, come. VER. Nay, if Vermin slip from the back of a tailor, spit him with a Spanish needle: or torment him in the louse's engine--your two thumb-nails. [_Exit all but_ GIOVANNO. GIO. The city's sieged, and thou thus chain'd In airy fetters of a lady's love! It must not be: stay, 'tis Evadne's love; Her life is with the city ruined, if The French become victorious: Evadne must not die: her chaster name, That once made cold, now doth my blood inflame. [_Exit._ ACT II., SCENE 1. _A table and chairs._