_Rafe._ I, traiterous Caitiffe, who am sent by fate To punish all the sad enormities Thou hast committed against Ladies gentle, And Errant Knights, Traytor to God and men: Prepare thy self, this is the dismal hour Appointed for thee to give strict account Of all thy beastly treacherous villanies.
_Bar._ Fool-hardy Knight, full soon thou shalt aby This fond reproach, thy body will I bang, [_He takes down his pole._ And loe upon that string thy teeth shall hang: Prepare thy self, for dead soon shalt thou be.
_Rafe._ Saint _George_ for me. [_They fight._
_Wife._ To him _Rafe_, to him, hold up the Giant, set out thy leg before _Rafe_.
_Cit._ Falsifie a blow _Rafe_, falsifie a blow, the Giant lies open on the left side.
_Wife._ Bear't off, bear't off still; there boy, O _Rafe_'s almost down, _Rafe_'s almost down.
_Rafe. Susan_ inspire me, now have up again.
_Wife._ Up, up, up, up, up, so _Rafe_, down with him, down with him _Rafe_.
_Wife._ There boy, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, _Rafe_.
_Cit._ No _Rafe_, get all out of him first.
_Rafe._ Presumptuous man, see to what desperate end Thy treachery hath brought thee, the just Gods, Who never prosper those that do despise them, For all the villanies which thou hast done To Knights and Ladies, now have paid thee home, By my stiff arm, a Knight adventurous. But say, vile wretch, before I send thy soul To sad _Avernus_, whither it must go, What captives holdst thou in thy sable cave?
_Barba._ Go in and free them all, thou hast the day.
_Rafe._ Go Squire and Dwarf, search in this dreadful cave, And free the wretched prisoners from their bonds.
_Barb._ I crave for mercy as thou art a Knight, And scornst to spill the blood of those that beg.
_Rafe._ Thou shewest no mercy, nor shalt thou have any, Prepare thy self, for thou shalt surely dye.
_Enter Squire leading one winking, with a Bason under his chin._
_Squire._ Behold brave Knight here is one prisoner, Whom this wild man hath used as you see.
_Wife._ This is the [first] wise word I hear[d] the Squire speak.
_Rafe._ Speak what thou art, and how thou hast been us'd, That I may give him condign punishment.
_1. Kni._ I am a Knight that took my journey post Northward from _London_, and in courteous wise, This Gyant train'd me to his [loathsome] den, Under pretence of killing of the itch, And all my body with a powder strew'd, That smarts and stings, and cut away my beard, And my curl'd locks wherein were Ribands ty'de, And with a water washt my tender eyes, Whilst up and down about me still he skipt, Whose virtue is, that till my eyes be wip't With a dry cloth, for this my foul disgrace, I shall not dare to look a dog i'th' face.