SCENE III.--_A Field near Foy_.

_Enter_ Bess Bridges, _like a_ Page, _with a sword; and_ Clem.

Bess. But that I know my mother to be chaste, I’d swear some soldier got me.

Clem. It may be many a soldier’s buff jerkin came out of your father’s tan-vat.

Bess. Methinks I have a manly spirit in me, In this man’s habit.

Clem. Now, am not I of many men’s minds; for, if you should do me wrong, I should not kill you, though I took you pissing against a wall.

Bess. Methinks I could be valiant on the sudden, And meet a man i’ the field. I could do all that I have heard discoursed Of Mary Ambree,[2.23] or Westminster’s Long Meg.

Clem. What Mary Ambree was I cannot tell; but unless you were taller, you will come short of Long Meg.

Bess. Of all thy fellows, thee I only trust, And charge thee to be secret.

Clem. I am bound in my indentures to keep my master’s secrets; and should I find a man in bed with you, I would not tell.

Bess. Begone, sir; but no words, as you esteem my favour.

Clem. But, mistress, I could wish you to look to your long seams; fights are dangerous. But am not I in a sweet taking, think you?

Bess. I prithee, why?

Clem. Why, if you should swagger and kill anybody, I, being a vintner, should be called to the bar. [_Exit_.

Bess. Let none condemn me of immodesty, Because I try the courage of a man, Who on my soul’s a coward, beats my servants, Cuffs them, and, as they pass by him, kicks my maids; Nay, domineers over me, making himself Lord o’er my house and household. Yesternight I heard him make appointment on some business To pass alone this way. I’ll venture fair, But I will try what’s in him.

_Enter_ Roughman _and_ Fawcett.

Fawcett. Sir, I can now no farther; weighty business Calls me away.

Roughman. Why, at your pleasure, then. Yet I could wish that ere I passed this field That I could meet some Hector, so your eyes Might witness what myself have oft repeated, Namely, that I am valiant.

Fawcett. Sir, no doubt; But now I am in haste. Farewell. [_Exit_.

Roughman. How many times brave words bear out a man! For if he can but make a noise, he’s feared. To talk of frays, although he ne’er had heart To face a man in field, that’s a brave fellow. I have been valiant, I must needs confess, In street and tavern, where there have been men Ready to part the fray; but for the fields, They are too cold to fight in.

Bess. You are a villain, a coward; and you lie. [_Strikes him_.

Roughman. You wrong me, I protest. Sweet, courteous gentleman, I never did you wrong.

Bess. Wilt tell me that? Draw forth thy coward sword, and suddenly, Or, as I am a man, I’ll run thee through, And leave thee dead i’ the field.

Roughman. Hold! as you are a gentleman. I have ta’en an oath I will not fight to-day.

Bess. Th’ast took a blow already, and the lie: Will not both these enrage thee?

Roughman. No; would you give the bastinado too, I will not break mine oath.

Bess. Oh! your name’s Roughman: No day doth pass you, but you hurt or kill! Is this out of your calendar?

Roughman. I! you are deceived. I ne’er drew sword in anger, I protest, Unless it were upon some poor, weak fellow, That ne’er wore steel about him.

Bess. Throw your sword.

Roughman. Here, sweet young sir; [_Gives up his sword_.] but, as you are a gentleman, Do not impair mine honour.

Bess. Tie that shoe.

Roughman. I shall, sir.

Bess. Untruss that point.[2.24]

Roughman. Any thing, this day, to save mine oath.

Bess. Enough;--yet not enough. Lie down, Till I stride o’er thee.

Roughman. Sweet sir, any thing.

Bess. Rise, thou hast leave. Now, Roughman, thou art blest: This day thy life is saved; look to the rest. Take back thy sword.

Roughman. Oh! you are generous: honour me so much As let me know to whom I owe my life.

Bess. I am Bess Bridges’ brother.

Roughman. Still methought That you were something like her.

Bess. And I have heard You domineer and revel in her house, Control her servants, and abuse her guests, Which if I ever shall hereafter hear, Thou art but a dead man.

Roughman. She never told me of a brother living; But you have power to sway me.

Bess. But for I see you are a gentleman, I am content this once to let you pass; But if I find you fall into relapse, The second’s far more dangerous.

Roughman. I shall fear it. Sir, will you take the wine?

Bess. I am for London, And for these two terms cannot make return; But if you see my sister, you may say I was in health.

Roughman. Too well: the devil take you! [_Aside_.

Bess. Pray, use her well, and at my coming back I’ll ask for your acquaintance. Now, farewell. [_Exit_.

Roughman. None saw’t: he’s gone for London; I am unhurt; Then who shall publish this disgrace abroad? One man’s no slander, should he speak his worst. My tongue’s as loud as his; but in this country Both of more fame and credit. Should we contest, I can outface the proudest. This is, then, My comfort. Roughman, thou art still the same, For a disgrace not seen is held no shame. [_Exit_.