Sir ANTHONY Who are going to fight, dunce? DAVID Every body that I know of, Sir Anthony:--everybody is going to fight, my poor master, Sir Lucius O'Trigger, your son, the captain---- Sir ANTHONY Oh, the dog! I see his tricks.--Do you know the place? DAVID King's-Mead-Fields. Sir ANTHONY You know the way? DAVID Not an inch; but I'll call the mayor--aldermen--constables--churchwardens--and beadles--we can't be too many to part them. Sir ANTHONY Come along--give me your shoulder! we'll get assistance as we go--the lying villain!--Well, I shall be in such a frenzy!--So--this was the history of his trinkets! I'll bauble him! [Exeunt.] * * * * * * * Scene III--King's-Mead-Fields. [Enter Sir LUCIUS O'TRIGGER and ACRES, with pistols.] ACRES By my valour! then, Sir Lucius, forty yards is a good distance. Odds levels and aims!--I say it is a good distance. Sir LUCIUS Is it for muskets or small field-pieces? Upon my conscience, Mr. Acres, you must leave those things to me.--Stay now--I'll show you.--[Measures paces along the stage.] There now, that is a very pretty distance--a pretty gentleman's distance. ACRES Zounds! we might as well fight in a sentry-box! I tell you, Sir Lucius, the farther he is off, the cooler I shall take my aim. Sir LUCIUS Faith! then I suppose you would aim at him best of all if he was out of sight! ACRES No, Sir Lucius; but I should think forty or eight-and-thirty yards---- Sir LUCIUS Pho! pho! nonsense! three or four feet between the mouths of your pistols is as good as a mile. ACRES Odds bullets, no!--by my valour! there is no merit in killing him so near; do, my dear Sir Lucius, let me bring him down at a long shot:--a long shot, Sir Lucius, if you love me! Sir LUCIUS Well, the gentleman's friend and I must settle that.--But tell me now, Mr. Acres, in case of an accident, is there any little will or commission I could execute for you? ACRES I am much obliged to you, Sir Lucius--but I don't understand---- Sir LUCIUS Why, you may think there's no being shot at without a little risk--and if an unlucky bullet should carry a quietus with it--I say it will be no time then to be bothering you about family matters. ACRES A quietus! Sir LUCIUS For instance, now--if that should be the case--would you choose to be pickled and sent home?--or would it be the same to you to lie here in the Abbey? I'm told there is very snug lying in the Abbey. ACRES Pickled!--Snug lying in the Abbey!--Odds tremors! Sir Lucius, don't talk so! Sir LUCIUS I suppose, Mr. Acres, you never were engaged in an affair of this kind before? ACRES No, Sir Lucius, never before. Sir LUCIUS Ah! that's a pity!--there's nothing like being used to a thing.--Pray now, how would you receive the gentleman's shot? ACRES Odds files!--I've practised that--there, Sir Lucius--there. [Puts himself in an attitude.] A side-front, hey? Odd! I'll make myself small enough: I'll stand edgeways.