KING ALFRED AND THE CAKES, Il

Just wait a second. (Fetches a sword.) NowI’m ready—sixes?
GutTH. Oh! any style you please.
ALF. Then, make it Hicks’s.
[ Combat @ la Hicks.
GuTH. It’s rather warm—a minute please, not more;
A comforter sometimes becomes a bore.
(He takes off his comforter. The fight ts resumed.
AF. Yield!
GUTH. Not while any drops of blood remain.
I’m more an antique Roman than a Dane.
[He receives a powerful blow.
I say, hit one of your own size. (Another.) Come, drop it!
[ He ts struck down.

 

There ’s been enough of this—suppose we stop it ?
Aur. (Stabbing him.) That brings it to aclose, my spark, high mettled.
GuTu. (Faintly.) Yes; a receipt in full—I may say settled.