Jac. How gently? And if it does not please me to go gently?
Val. Come, come! What are you about?
Jac. You are an impudent rascal.
Val. Master Jacques …
Jac. None of your Master Jacques here! If I take up a stick, I shall soon make you feel it.
Val. What do you mean by a stick? (Drives back Jacques in his turn.)
Jac. No; I don't say anything about that.
Val. Do you know, Mr. Conceit, that I am a man to give you a drubbing in good earnest?
Jac. I have no doubt of it.
Val. That, after all, you are nothing but a scrub of a cook?