Squire Sul. Hold, villain, hold!
Mrs. Sul. [Presenting a pistol.] Do you hold!
Squire Sul. What! murder your husband, to defend your bully! [390]
Mrs. Sul. Bully! for shame, Mr. Sullen, bullies wear long swords, the gentleman has none; he's a prisoner, you know. I was aware of your outrage, and prepared this to receive your violence; and, if occasion were, to preserve myself against the force of this other gentleman.
Count Bel. O madam, your eyes be bettre firearms than your pistol; they nevre miss.
Squire Sul. What! court my wife to my face!
Mrs. Sul. Pray, Mr. Sullen, put up; suspend your fury for a minute. [401]
Squire Sul. To give you time to invent an excuse!
Mrs. Sul. I need none.
Squire Sul. No, for I heard every syllable of your discourse.