_Enter_ Falatius _and_ Labree.
_Fal_. Wert thou never valiant, _Labree_?
_Lab_. Yes, Sir, before I serv’d you, and since too: I
Am provok’d to give you proofs on’t sometimes;
For when I am angry I am a very Hector.
_Fal_. Ay, the Devil when a body’s angry, but that’s
Not the Valour in mode; Men fight now a-days
Without that, and even embrace whilst they draw
Their Swords on one another.
_Lab_. Ay, Sir, those are Men that despise their lives.
_Fal_. Why, that’s it, _Labree_, that I would learn to do,
And which I fear, nothing but Poverty will make me do;
_Jove_ defend me from that experiment.
_Enter_ Erminia _veil’d with a thin Tiffany_.
_Lab_. What’s the matter, Sir?
Does the fit take you now?
_Fal_. Save us, save us, from the Fiend.
_Lab_. A Ghost, a Ghost! O, O, O!
[_They fall shaking on the ground_.
_Er_. This was a happy mistake,
Now I may pass with safety.
[_Ex_.
_Fal_. Look up, _Labree_, if thou hast any of that
Courage thou spakest of but now.
_Lab_. I dare not, Sir, experience yours I pray.
_Fal_. Alas, alas, I fear we are both rank Cowards.
_Lab_. Rise, Sir, ‘tis gone.
_Fal_. This was worse than the fright _Alcander_ put
Me into by much.
[_They rise and go out_.