Ant. We are no dogs Sir,
To run back on command.
Ter. We'll make ye run, Sir.
Ant. Having a civil charge of handsome Ladies,
We are your servants: pray ye no quarrel Gentlemen.
There's way enough for both.
Lis. We'll make it wider.
Ant. If you will fight, arm'd from this Saint; have at ye.
Ism. O me unhappy, are ye Gentlemen?
Discreet, and Civil, and in open view thus?
Am. What will men think of us; nay you may kill us;
Mercy o'me; through my petticoat; what bloody Gentlemen!
Ism. Make way through me, ye had best, and kill an innocent:
Brother, why Cosen: by this light I'll dye too:
This Gentleman is temperate: be you merciful:
Alass, the Swords.
Am. You had best run me through [the belly]
'Twill be a valiant thrust.
Ism. I faint amongst ye.