ther
go plain all my life than wear such finery.

BLUFF. Death and hell to be affronted thus! I'll die before I'll suffer
it. [_Draws_.]

SIR JO. O Lord, his anger was not raised before. Nay, dear Captain,
don't be in passion now he's gone. Put up, put up, dear Back, 'tis your
Sir Joseph begs, come let me kiss thee; so, so, put up, put up.

BLUFF. By heaven, 'tis not to be put up.

SIR JO. What, Bully?

BLUFF. The affront.

SIR JO. No, aged, no more 'tis, for that's put up all already; thy
sword, I mean.

BLUFF. Well, Sir Joseph, at your entreaty--But were not you, my friend,
abused, and cuffed, and kicked? [_Putting up his sword_.]

SIR JO. Ay, ay, so were you too; no matter, 'tis past.

BLUFF. By the immortal thunder of great guns, 'tis false--he sucks not
vital air who dares affirm it to this face. [_Looks big_.]

SIR JO. To that face I grant you, Captain. No, no, I grant you--not to
that face, by the Lord Harry. If you had put on your fighting face
before, you had done his business--he durst as soon have kissed you, as
kicked you to your face. But a man can no more help what's done behind
his back than what's said--Come, we'll think no more of what's past.

BLUFF. I'll call a council of war within to consider of my revenge to
come.

SCENE X.

HEARTWELL, SILVIA. _Silvia's apartment_.

SONG.

As Amoret and Thyrsis lay
Melting the hours in gentle play,
Joining faces, mingling kisses,
And exchanging harmless blisses:
He trembling cried, with eager haste,
O let me feed as well as taste,
I die, if I'm not wholly blest.

[_After the song a dance of antics_.]

SILV. Indeed it is very fine. I could look upon 'em all day.

HEART. Well has this prevailed for me, and will you look upon me?

SILV. If you could sing and dance so, I should love to look upon you
too.

HEART. Why, 'twas I sung and danced; I gave music to the voice, and life
to their measures. Look you here, Silvia, [_pulling out a purse and
chinking it_] here are songs and dances, poetry and music--hark! how
sweetly one guinea rhymes to another--and how they dance to the music of
their own chink. This buys all t'other--and this thou shalt have; this,
and all that I am worth, for the purchase of thy love. Say, is it mine
then, ha? Speak, Syren--Oons, why do I look on her! Yet I must. Speak,
dear angel, devil, saint, witch; do not rack me with suspense.

SILV. Nay, don't stare at me so. You make me b