Sab. Can flesh and blood endure this!
Flo. How now, my amazon in decimo sexto!
Olin. Do you affront my sister?
Flo. Ay; but thou art so tall, I think I shall never affront thee.
Sab. Come away, sister; we shall be jeered to death else. [Exeunt OLIN. and SAB.
Flo. Why do you look that way? You can't forbear leering after the forbidden fruit.—But whene'er I take a wencher's word again!
Cel. A wencher's word!—Why should you speak so contemptibly of the better half of mankind? I'll stand up for the honour of my vocation.
Flo. You are in no fault, I warrant!—'Ware my busk[A].
[Footnote A: The now almost forgotten busk was a small slip of steel or wood, used to stiffen the stays. Florimel threatens to employ it as a rod of chastisement.]
Cel. Not to give a fair lady the lie, I am in fault; but otherwise—Come, let us be friends, and let me wait on you to your lodgings.