See, Nigel, see the gallant
citizen has ta'en his ground about a bowl's-cast forward, in the midst
of the alley--the very model of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances
with his manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were
about to measure forth cambric with it. See, they bring on the
reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his fiery antagonist,
twelve paces still dividing them--Lo, the captain draws his tool, but,
like a good general, looks over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in
case the worse come on't. Behold the valiant shop-keeper stoops his
head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which his spouse
has fortified his skull--Why, this is the rarest of sport. By Heaven,
he will run a tilt at him, like a ram."
It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated; for the citizen, who
seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat, perceiving that the man
of war did not advance towards him, rushed onwards with as much good
fortune as courage, beat down the captain's guard, and, pressing on,
thrust, as it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his
antagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length on the ground.
A score of voices cried to the conqueror, as he stood fixed in
astonishment at his own feat, "Away, away with you!--fly, fly--fly by
the back door!--get into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the
Bankside, while we keep off the mob and the constables.
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