Wild. I will not answer every idle Question.
Sir Char. Death, you dare not.
Wild. How, dare not!
Sir Char. No, dare not; for if you did—
Wild. What durst you, if I did?
Sir Char. Death, cut your Throat, Sir.
[Taking hold on him roughly.
Sir Anth. Hold, hold, let him have fair play, and then curse him that parts ye. [Taking ‘em asunder, they draw.
L. Gal. Hold, I command ye, hold!
Sir Char. There rest my Sword to all Eternity.
[Lays his Sword at her Feet.
L. Gal. Now I conjure ye both, by all your Honour,
If you were e’er acquainted with that Virtue,
To see my Face no more,
Who durst dispute your Interest in me thus,
As for a common Mistress, in your Drink.