Syc. Begone! thou shalt not be my lord; thou say'st I'm ugly.
Trinc. Did you tell her so?—ha! he's a rogue, do not believe him, chuck.
Steph. The foul words were yours: I will not eat 'em for you.
Trinc. I see, if once a rebel, then ever a rebel. Did I receive thee into grace for this? I will correct thee with my royal hand.
[Strikes Steph.
Syc. Dost thou hurt my love?
[Flies at Trinc.
Trinc. Where are our guards? Treason! Treason!
[Vent. Must. Calib. run betwixt.
Vent. Who took up arms first, the prince or the people?
Trinc. This false traitor has corrupted the wife of my bosom. [Whispers Mustacho hastily.] Mustacho, strike on my side, and thou shalt be my viceroy.
Must. I am against rebels. Ventoso, obey your viceroy.
Vent. You a viceroy?
[They two fight off from the rest.