Dem. Ye wanton fool: when I come home again I'le fight with thee, at thine own weapon Celia, And conquer thee too.
Cel. That you have done already, You need no other Arms to me, but these Sir; But will you fight your self Sir?
Dem. Thus deep in bloud wench, And through the thickest ranks of Pikes.
Cel. Spur bravely Your firie Courser, beat the troops before ye, And cramb the mouth of death with executions.
Dem. I would do more than these: But prethee tell me, Tell me my fair, where got'st thou this male Spirit? I wonder at thy mind.
Cel. Were I a man then, You would wonder more.
Dem. Sure thou wouldst prove a Souldier, And some great Leader.
Cel. Sure I should do somewhat; And the first thing I did, I should grow envious, Extreamly envious of your youth, and honour.
Dem. And fight against me?
Cel. Ten to one, I should do it.