2 Daugh. Oh, now it courts.
Jun. Arm'd with more malice
Then he that got thee has the divell.
2 Daugh. Good.
Proceed, sweet chick.
Jun. I hate thee, that's my last.
2 Daug. Nay, and ye love me, forward: No? Come sister,
Let's prick our answers on our arrows points,
And make 'em laugh a little. Ye damn'd Leachers,
Ye proud improvident fools, have we now caught ye?
Are ye i'th' noose? Since ye are such loving creatures,
We'll be your Cupids: Do ye see these arrows?
We'll send them to your wanton livers, goats.
1 Dau. O how I'll trample on your hearts, ye villains,
Ambitious salt-itch slaves: Romes master sins,
The mountain Rams topt your hot mothers.
2. Daugh. Dogs,
To whose brave founders a salt whore gave suck;
Theeves, honors hangmen, do ye grin? perdition
Take me for ever, if in my [fell] anger, [Enter Caratach.
I do not out-do all example.
Car. Where,
Where are these Ladies? ye keep noble quarter,
Your Mother thinks ye dead or taken; upon which,
She will not move her Battel. Sure these faces
I have beheld and known, they are Roman Leaders,
How came they here?
2. Daugh. A trick Sir, that we us'd,
A certain policy conducted 'em
Unto our snare: we have done ye no small service;
These us'd as we intend, we are for th' battel,
Car. As you intend? taken by treachery?