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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.[.

''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.

''Glot. (going up to'' ) 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,