Hip. You seem, Sir, to be he whom I expect.
Ant. I’m call’d Antonio, Sir—
Hip. And I Alonzo; the rest we need not ask,
For thou art well acquainted with my Injuries,
And I with thy Perfidiousness. [Draws.
Ant. I know of none you have receiv’d from me,
If on Hippolyta’s account you fight:
She lov’d me, and believ’d; and what dull Lover
Would have refus’d a Maid so easily gain’d?
Hip. Ah, Traytor, by how base a way