MERC. It is thus that my arm...
SOS. The action is unworthy. You gloat over the advantage which my want of courage gives you over me; that is not fair treatment. It is mere bullying to wish to profit by the poltroonery of those whom one makes to feel the weight of one's arm. To thrash a man who does not retaliate is not the act of a generous soul; and to show courage against men who have none merits condemnation.
MERC. Well! Are you still Sosie? What say you?
SOS. Your blows have not made any metamorphosis in me; all the change there is is that in the matter I am Sosie thrashed.
MERC. Still? A hundred fresh blows for this fresh impudence.
SOS. Have mercy, a truce to your blows.
MERC. Then a truce to your insolence.
SOS. Anything that pleases you; I will keep silence. The dispute between us is too unequal.
MERC. Are you still Sosie? Say, villain!
SOS. Alas! I am what you wish; dispose of my lot exactly as you please: your arm 'has made you the master of it.