_Pet_. _Attende, attende une peu_--trust de right hand and de right leg forward together.-- _Tick_. I marry, Sir, that’s a good one indeed: What shall become of my Head then, Sir? what Guard have I left for that, good Mr. _Monsieur_, hah? _Pet_. Ah, Morbleu, is not dis for every ting? _Tick_. No, marry, is not it, Sir; St. _George’s_ Guard is best for the Head whilst you live--as thus, Sir. _Pet_. Dat, Sir, ha, ha--dat be de Guard for de Back-Sword. _Tick_. Back-sword, Sir, yes, Back-sword, what shou’d it be else? _Pet_. And dis be de Single-Rapier. _Tick_. Single-Rapier with a Vengeance, there’s a weapon for a Gentleman indeed; is all this stir about Single-Rapier? _Pet_. Single-Rapier! What wou’d you have for de Gentlemen, de Cudgel for de Gentlemen? _Tick_. No, Sir, but I wou’d have it for de Rascally _Frenchman_, who comes to abuse Persons of Quality with paltry Single-Rapier.-- Single-Rapier! Come, Sir, come--put your self in your Cart and your Horse as you call it, and I’ll shew you the difference. [_Undresses himself till he appears in a ridiculous Posture_. _Pet_. Ah, _Monsieur_, me sall run you two three times through de Body, and den you break a me head, what care I for dat?--Pox on his ignorance. [_Aside_. _Tick_. Oh, ho, Sir, do your worst, Sir, do your worst, Sir. [_They put themselves into several Guards, and_ Tick. _beats_ Pet. _about the Stage.--Enter_ Gall. Fill. _and_ Jul. _Pet_. Ah, _Monsieur, Monsieur_, will you kill a me? _Tick_. Ah, _Monsieur_, where be your Carts now, and your Horse, Mr. _Monsieur_, hah?--and your Single-Rapier, Mr. _Monsieur_, hah?-- _Gal_. Why, how now, Mr. _Tickletext_, what mortal Wars are these? _Ajax_ and _Ulysses_ contending for _Achilles_ his Armour? _Pet_. If I be not reveng’d on him, hang me. [_Aside_ Sir _Sig_. Ay, why, who the Devil wou’d have taken my Governor for so tall a man of hands? but _Corpo de me_, Mr. _Galliard_, I have not seen his Fellow. _Tick_. Ah, Sir, time was, I wou’d have play’d ye a Match at Cudgels with e’er a Sophister in the College, but verily I have forgotten it; but here’s an Impudent _Frenchman_ that wou’d have past Single-Rapier upon us. _Gal_. How, nay a my word, then he deserv’d to be chastis’d for’t--but now all’s at Peace again; pray know my Kinsman, Sir _Harry Fillamour_. Sir _Sig_. _Yo baco les manos_, Signior _Illustrissimo Cavaliero_,--and yours, Signiors, who are _Multo bien Venito_. _Tick_. Oh Lord, Sir, you take me, Sir, in such a posture, Sir, as I protest I have not been in this many years. [_Dressing himself whilst he talks_. _Fil_. Exercise is good for health, Sir. _Gal_. Sir _Signal_, you are grown a perfect _Italian_: Well, Mr. _Tickletext_, you will carry him home a most accomplish’t Gentleman I see.