and had I not effected it with
resolution, I had been slain if I had had a million of
lives.

LOR. JU. Indeed, sir?

STEP. Nay, an you heard him discourse you would
say so: how like you him?

BOB. I assure you (upon my salvation) 'tis true,
and yourself shall confess.

PROS. You must bring him to the rack first.

BOB. Observe me judicially, sweet Signior: they had
planted me a demi-culverin just in the mouth of the
breach; now, sir, (as we were to ascend), their master
gunner (a man of no mean skill and courage, you must
think,) confronts me with his linstock ready to give
fire; I spying his intendment, discharged my petronel
in his bosom, and with this instrument, my poor rapier,
ran violently upon the Moors that guarded the ordnance,
and put them pell-mell to the sword.

PROS. To the sword? to the rapier, Signior.

LOR. JU. Oh, it was a good figure observed, sir: but
did you all this, Signior, without hurting your blade?

BOB. Without any impeach on the earth: you shall
perceive, sir, it is the most fortunate weapon that
ever rid on a poor gentleman's thigh: shall I tell you,
sir? you talk of Morglay, Excalibur, Durindana, or so:
tut, I lend no credit to that is reported of them, I
know the virtue of mine own, and therefore I dare the
boldlier maintain it.

STEP. I marle whether it be a Toledo or no?

BOB. A most perfect Toledo, I assure you, Signior.

STEP. I have a countryman of his here.

MAT. Pray you let's see, sir: yes, faith, it is.

BOB. This a Toledo? pish!

STEP. Why do you pish, Signior?

BOB. A Fleming, by Phoebus! I'll buy them for a
guilder a piece, an I'll have a thousand of them.

LOR. JU. How say you, cousin? I told you thus much.

PROS. Where bought you it, Signior?

STEP. Of a scurvy rogue soldier, a pox of God on
him, he swore it was a Toledo.

BOB. A provant rapier, no better.

MAT. Mass, I think it be indeed.

LOR. JU. Tut, now it's too late to look on it, put it
up, put it up.

STEP. Well, I will not put it up, but by God's foot,
an ever I meet him --

PROS. Oh, it is past remedy now, sir, you must have
patience.

STEP. Whoreson, coney-catching rascal; oh, I could
eat the very hilts for anger.

LOR. JU. A sign you have a good ostrich stomach, cousin.

STEP. A stomach? would I ha