Mont. No, sir, Ile fight now, and the terror be
Of all you champions to such as shee.60
I did but thus farre dally; now observe.
O all you aking fore-heads that have rob'd
Your hands of weapons and your hearts of valour,
Joyne in mee all your rages and rebutters,
And into dust ram this same race of Furies;65
In this one relicke of the Ambois gall,
In his one purple soule shed, drowne it all. Fight.
Mont. Now give me breath a while.