HUSBAND.
Sir, Sir, I have not done with you.

GENTLEMAN.
I hope nor nere shall do.

[Fight again.]

HUSBAND.
Have you got tricks? are you in cunning with me?

GENTLEMAN.
No, plain and right.
He needs no cunning that for truth doth fight.

[Husband falls down.]

HUSBAND.
Hard fortune, am I leveld with the ground?

GENTLEMAN.
Now, sir, you lie at mercy.

HUSBAND.
Aye, you slave.

GENTLEMAN.
Alas, that hate should bring us to our grave.
You see my sword's not thirsty for your life,
I am sorrier for your wound then your self.