Acres. There are two of them indeed!—well—let them come— hey, Sir Lucius!—we—we—we—we—won’t run.

Sir Luc. Run!

Acres. No—I say—we won’t run, by my valour!

Sir Luc. What the devil’s the matter with you?

Acres. Nothing—nothing—my dear friend—my dear Sir Lucius— but I—I—I don’t feel quite so bold, somehow, as I did.

Sir Luc. O fy!—consider your honour.

Acres. Ay—true—my honour. Do, Sir Lucius, edge in a word or two every now and then about my honour.

Sir Luc. Well, here they’re coming.

[Looking.

Acres. Sir Lucius—if I wa’n’t with you, I should almost think I was afraid.—If my valour should leave me!—Valour will come and go.

Sir Luc. Then pray keep it fast, while you have it.

Acres. Sir Lucius—I doubt it is going—yes—my valour is certainly going!—it is sneaking off!—I feel it oozing out as it were at the palms of my hands!

Sir Luc. Your honour—your honour.—Here they are.

Acres. O mercy!—now—that I was safe at Clod Hall! or could be shot before I was aware!

Enter Faulkland and Captain Absolute.

Sir Luc. Gentlemen, your most obedient.—Hah!—what, Captain Absolute!—So, I suppose, sir, you are come here, just like myself— to do a kind office, first for your friend—then to proceed to business on your own account.

Acres. What, Jack!—my dear Jack!—my dear friend!

Abs. Hark’ee, Bob, Beverley’s at hand.

Sir Luc. Well, Mr. Acres—I don’t blame your saluting the gentleman civilly.—[To Faulkland.] So, Mr. Beverley, if you’ll choose your weapons, the captain and I will measure the ground.

Faulk. My weapons, sir!

Acres. Odds life! Sir Lucius, I’m not going to fight Mr. Faulkland; these are my particular friends.

Sir Luc. What, sir, did you not come here to fight Mr. Acres?

Faulk. Not I, upon my word, sir.

Sir Luc. Well, now, that’s mighty provoking! But I hope, Mr. Faulkland, as there are three of us come on purpose for the game, you won’t be so cantankerous as to spoil the party by sitting out.

Abs. O pray, Faulkland, fight to oblige Sir Lucius.