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 Gramadoch. Go to! What haughty scorn! Though like myself thou art A manikin, less gay is thy grimace. I say again, Cromwell doth pay us both To make a little music in this concert, Where thy voice is the loud church-bell, and mine The little bell. The Champion. Villain! Gramadoch. We may, methinks, Without disgrace, combat for Oliver, Or 'gainst him; thou his speaking-trumpet art, And I his train-bearer. The Champion [angrily.] What dost thou choose For weapon? Gramadoch. Weapon? [He draws his lath. Faith! this wooden sword.
 * [He brandishes it with a warlike air.

'Tis the meet weapon for a man of straw. On guard, my captain!
 * [To the crowd.] Battle! battle!
 * [To the .] Come!

Let 's see if we can make this joust of ours A pendant to Dunbar; and if thy sword Durandal is the peer of my Escalibar!
 * [To the crowd.

Come you and watch.
 * [Pointing to.

Saving yon blind man's wrath, The contest 'twixt a Falstaff who doth sing, And a Stentor who doth bellow. Come and see A buffoon thrash a bravo. Overton [to , in an undertone. This whole scene To my mind hath a look of pre-arrangement.