But in a Father, it is tyrannie.
Enter Misogynos.
Sfor. Forbeare, my Lord, the times are dangerous.
See! here’s the Champion.
Iag. Looke how the Slaue glories in his conquest,
How insolent he stalkes!
Shall we indure such saucie impudence?
Sfor. Put vp, put vp, my Lord,
He is not worth our indignation:
Let vs a-while obserue him for some sport.