Zanch. Why Signior, in all things there must be method,
Ye choak the child of honor else, discretion,
Do you conceive an injury?
Alph. What then Sir?
Zanch. Then follow it in fair terms, let your sword bite
When time calls, not your tongue.
Alph. I know Sir
Both when and what to do without directions,
And where, and how, I come not to be tutor'd,
My cause is no mans but mine own: you Signior,
Will ye restore my Daughter?
Leo. Who detains her?
Alph. No more of these slight shifts.
Leo. Ye urge me Signior
With strange injustice: because my Son has err'd—
Zanch. Mark him.
Leo. Out of the heat of youth: dos't follow
I must be father of his crimes?
Alph. I say still.
Leave off your Rhetorick, and restore my Daughter.
And suddainly: bring in your rebel too,
Mountdragon, he that mounts without commission
That I may see him punished, and severely,
Or by that holy Heaven, I'll fire your house,
And there's my way of honor.