DAN. MAS. And you, my beater of iron, I'll teach you your trade.
MR. JOUR. (to the DANCING MASTER). Are you mad to go and quarrel with a man, who understands tierce and quart, and knows how to kill another by demonstrative reason?
DAN. MAS. I don't care a straw for his demonstrative reason, and his tierce and his quart.
MR. JOUR. (to the DANCING MASTER). Gently, I tell you.
FEN. MAS. (to the DANCING MASTER). How! You little impudent fellow!
MR. JOUR. Ah! my fencing master!
DAN. MAS. (to the FENCING MASTER). How! you great cart-horse!
MR. JOUR. Stop! my dancing master!
FEN. MAS. If I once begin with you….
MR. JOUR. (to the FENCING MASTER). Gently.