SIR JO. O Lord, sir, by no means, but I might have saved a hundred
pound: I meant innocently, as I hope to be saved, sir (a damned hot
fellow), only, as I was saying, I let him have all my ready money to
redeem his great sword from limbo. But, sir, I have a letter of credit
to Alderman Fondlewife, as far as two hundred pound, and this afternoon
you shall see I am a person, such a one as you would wish to have met
with—
SHARP. That you are, I’ll be sworn. [_Aside_.] Why, that’s great and
like yourself.
SCENE II.
[_To them_] CAPTAIN BLUFFE.
SIR JO. Oh, here a’ comes—Ay, my Hector of Troy, welcome, my bully, my
Back; agad, my heart has gone a pit pat for thee.
BLUFF. How now, my young knight? Not for fear, I hope; he that knows me
must be a stranger to fear.
SIR JO. Nay, agad, I hate fear ever since I had like to have died of a
fright. But—
BLUFF. But? Look you here, boy, here’s your antidote, here’s your
Jesuits’ powder for a shaking fit. But who hast thou got with thee? is
he of mettle? [_Laying his hand upon his sword_.]
SIR JO. Ay, bully, a devilish smart fellow: ’a will fight like a cock.
BLUFF. Say you so? Then I honour him. But has he been abroad? for
every cock will fight upon his own dunghill.
SIR JO. I don’t know, but I’ll present you—
BLUFF. I’ll recommend myself. Sir, I honour you; I understand you love
fighting, I reverence a man that loves fighting. Sir, I kiss your hilts.
SHARP. Sir, your servant, but you are misinformed, for, unless it be to
serve my particular friend, as Sir Joseph here, my country, or my
religion, or in some very justifiable cause, I’m not for it.
BLUFF. O Lord, I beg your pardon, sir, I find you are not of my palate:
you can’t relish a dish of fighting without sweet sauce. Now, I think
fighting for fighting sake’s sufficient cause; fighting to me’s religion
and the laws.
SIR JO. Ah, well said, my Hero; was not that great, sir? by the Lord
Harry he says true; fighting is meat, drink, and cloth to him. But,
Back, this gentleman is one of the best friends I have in the world, and
saved my life last night—you know I told you.
BLUFF. Ay! Then I honour him again. Sir, may I crave your name?
SHARP. Ay, sir, my name’s Sharper.
SIR JO. Pray, Mr. Sharper, embrace my Back. Very well. By the Lord
Harry, Mr. Sharper, he’s as brave a fellow as Cannibal, are not you,
Bully-Back?
SHARP. Hannibal, I believe you mean, Sir Joseph.
BLUFF. Undoubtedly he did, sir; faith, Hannibal was a very pretty
fellow—but, Sir Joseph, comparisons are odious—Hannibal was a very pretty
fellow in those days, it must be granted—but alas, sir! were he alive
now, he would be nothing, nothing in the earth.
SHARP. How, sir! I make a doubt if there be at this day a greater
general breathing.
BLUFF. Oh, excuse me, sir! Have you served abroad, sir?
SHARP. Not I, really, sir.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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