Lieu. Why look ye now: What a strange man are you? would you have a man fight At all hours all alike?
Leo. Do but fight something; But half a blow, and put thy stomach to't: Turn but thy face, and do-make mouths at 'em.
Lieu. And have my teeth knockt out; I thank ye heartily, Ye are my dear friend.
Leo. What a devil ails thee? Dost long to be hang'd?
Lieu. Faith Sir, I make no suit for't: But rather Fhan I would live thus out of charity, Continually in brawling—
Leo. Art thou not he? I may be cosen'd—
Lieu, I shall be discover'd.
Leo. That in the midst of thy most hellish pains, When thou wert crawling sick, didst aim at wonders, When thou wert mad with pain?
Lieu. Ye have found the cause out;
I had ne're been mad to fight else: I confess Sir,
The daily torture of my side that vext me,
Made me as daily careless what became of me,
Till a kind sword there wounded me, and eas'd me;
'Twas nothing in my valour fought; I am well now,
And take some pleasure in my life, methinks now,
It shews as mad a thing to me to see you scuffle,
And kill one another foolishly for honour,
As 'twas to you, [t]o see me play the coxcomb.
Leo. And wilt thou ne're fight more?