_Alice_. [Speaking to the outside.] Fly, Stephen, to the door! your rapier! quick!-- Our master is beset, because of one Whose part he takes, a maid, whom lawless men Would lawlessly entreat! In what a world We live!--How do I shake!--with what address [Looking out of window.] He lays about him, and his other arm Engaged, in charge of her whom he defends! A damsel worth a broil!--Now, Stephen, now! Take off the odds, brave lad, and turn the scale! I would I were a swordsman! How he makes His rapier fly!--Well done!--O Heaven, there's blood. But on the side that's wrong!--Well done, good Stephen! Pray Heaven no life be ta'en!--Lay on, brave lad! He has marked his man again. Good lad--Well done, I pray no mischief come!--Press on him, Stephen! Now gives he ground.--Follow thy advantage up! Allow no pause for breaths!--Hit him again! Forbid it end in death!--Lounge home, good Stephen! How fast he now retreats!--That spring, I'll swear, Was answer to thy point!--Well fenced!--Well fenced! Now Heaven forefend it end in death!--He flies! And from his comrade, the same moment, hath Our master jerked his sword--The day is ours! Quick may they get a surgeon for their wounds, And I, a cordial for my fluttered spirits: I vow, I'm nigh to swoon! _Wal_. [Without.] Hoa! Alice! Hoa! Open the door! Quick, Alice! Quick! _Alice_. Anon! Young joints take no thought of aged ones, But ever think them as supple as themselves. _Wal_. Alice! _Alice_. [Opening the door.] I'm here!--A mercy!-- Is she dead? [Enter MASTER WALLER, bearing LYDIA, fainting.] _Wal_. No, she but faints.--A chair!--Quick, Alice, quick! Water to bathe her temples. [ALICE goes out.] Such a turn Kind fortune never do me. Shall I kiss To life these frozen lips?--No!--of her plight 'Twere base to take advantage. [ALICE returns, &c.] All is well, The blood returns. _Alice_. How wondrous fair she is! _Wal_. Thou think'st her so? [Aside.] No wonder then should I. [Aloud.] How say you?--Wondrous fair? _Alice_. Yes; wondrous fair! Harm never come to her! So sweet a thing 'Twere pity were abused! _Wal_. You think her fair? _Alice_. Ay, marry! Half so fair were more than match For fairest she e'er saw mine eyes before! And what a form! A foot and instep there! Vouchers of symmetry! A little foot And rising instep, from an ankle arching, A palm, and that a little one, might span. _Wal_. Who taught thee thus? _Alice_. Why who, but her, taught thee? Thy mother!--Heaven rest her!--Thy good mother! She could read men and women by their hands And feet!--And here's a hand!--A fairy palm! Fingers that taper to the pinky tips, With nails of rose, like shells of such a hue, Berimmed with pearl, you pick up on the shore! Save these the gloss and tint do wear without. _Wal_. Why, how thou talk'st!