Char. I care not much if twere
Against thy selfe; thy sister would have sham'd
To have thy brothers wreake with any man
In single combat sticke so in her fingers.95
Cler. My sister! know you her?
Tam. I, sir, shee sent him
With this kinde letter, to performe the wreake
Of my deare servant.
Cler. Now, alas! good sir,
Thinke you you could doe more?