_Mart._ A word with you, Deny it not, I was that man disguis'd, You know my temper, and as you respect A daily cudgeling for one whole year, Without a second pulling by the ears, Or tweaks by th' nose, or the most precious balm You us'd of patience, patience do you mark me, Confess before these Kings with what base fear Thou didst deliver it. _Prot._ Oh, I sh[all] burst, And if I have not instant liberty To tear this fellow limb by limb, the wrong Will break my heart, although _Herculean_, And somewhat bigger; there's my gage, pray you he[re], Let me redeem my credit. _Thier._ Ha, ha, forbear. _Mart._ Pray you let me take it up, and if I do not, Against all odds of Armor and of Weapons, With this make him confess it on his knees Cut off my head. _Prot._ No, that's my office. _Bawdb._ Fie, you take the Hangmans place. _Ordel._ Nay, good my Lord Let me attone this difference, do not suffer Our bridal night to be the Centaurs Feast. [You are] a Knight, and bound by oath to grant All just suits unto Ladies; for my sake Forget your suppos'd wrong. _Prot._ Well let him thank you, For your sake he shall live, perhaps a day, And may be, on submission longer. _Theod._ Nay _Martel[l]_ you must be patient. _Mart._ I am yours, And this slave shall be once more mine. _Thier._ Sit all; One health, and so to bed, for I too long Deferr my choicest delicates. _Brun._ Which if poison Have any power, thou shalt like _Tantalus_ Behold and never taste, be careful. _Lecu._ Fear not. _Brun._ Though it be rare in our Sex, yet for once I will begin a health. _Thier._ Let it come freely. _Brun. Lecure_, the cup; here to the son we hope This night shall be an Embrion. _Thier._ You have nam'd A blessing that I most desir'd, I pledge you; Give me a larger cup, that is too little Unto so great a god. _Brun._ Nay, then you wrong me, Follow as I began. _Thier._ Well as you please. _Brun._ Is't done? _Lecu._ Unto your wish I warrant you, For this night I durst trust him with my Mother. _Thier._ So 'tis gone round, lights. _Brun._ Pray you use my service. _Ordel._ 'Tis that which I shall ever owe you, Madam, And must have none from you, pray [you] pardon me. _Thier._ Good rest to all. _Theod._ And to [you] pleasant labour. _Mart[ell]_ Your company, Madam, good night. [_Exeunt all but_ Brunhalt, Protal, Lecure, Bawdber. _Brun._ Nay, you have cause to blush, but I will hide it, And what's more, I forgive you; is't not pity That thou that art the first to enter combate With any Woman, and what is more, o'ercome her, In which she is best pleas'd, should be so [fearefull] To meet a man.