Maur. Yes, good my Lord; but chuse you well your day:
A moonless Friday luck did never bring
To honest combatant.
Glot. Ha! blessing on thee! I ne'er thought of this:
Now it is clear how our mischance befell.
Be sure thou tell to every one thou meet'st,
Friday and a dark moon suit Theobald.
Ho there! Sir Rudigere! hear'st thou not this?
Rud. (as he goes off, aside to Maurice)
Flatter the fool a while and let me go,
I cannot join thee now.[Exit.
Glot. (looking after Rudigere)
Is he so crest-fallen?
Maur. He lacks your noble spirit.
Glot. Fy upon't!
I heed it not. Yet, by my sword and spurs!
'Twas a foul turn, that for my rival earn'd
A branch of victory from Orra's hand.
Maur. Aye, foul indeed! My blood boil'd high to see it.
Look where he proudly comes.
Enter Theobald arm'd, with Attendants, having a green sprig stuck in his helmet.
Glot. (going up to Theobald)
Comest thou to face me so? Audacious Burgher!
The Lady Orra's favour suits thee not,
Tho' for a time thou hast upon me gain'd
A seeming 'vantage.
Theo. A seeming 'vantage!—Then it is not true,
That thou, unhors'd, layd'st rolling in the dust,
