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Maur. And wherefore should'st thou? This same Theobald, Count and co-burgher—mixture most unseemly Of base and noble,—know we not right well What powers assist him? Mark'd you not, my Lord, How he did turn him to the witchy north, When first he mounted; making his fierce steed, That paw'd and rear'd and shook its harness'd neck In generous pride, bend meekly to the earth Its mained crest, like one who made obeisance?

Glot. Ha! did'st thou really see it?

Maur.Yes, brave Glottenbal, I did right truly; and besides myself, Many observ'd it.

Glot. Then 'tis manifest How all this foil hath been. Who e'er before Saw one with such advantage of the field, Lose it so shamefully? By my good fay! Barring foul play and other dev'lish turns, I'd keep my courser's back with any Lord, Or Knight, or Squire that e'er bestrode a steed. Think'st thou not, honest Maurice, that I could?

Maur. Who doubts it, good my Lord? This Falkenstein Is but a clown to you.

Glot. Well let him boast. Boasting I scorn; but I will shortly shew him What these good arms, with no foul play against them, Can honestly atchieve.