Rai. They speak of truce?
The Knights. Even so. Of truce between
The Soldan and our King.
Rai. Let him who fears
Lest the close helm should wear his locks away,
Cry “truce,” and cast it off. I have no will
To change mine armour for a masquer’s robe,
And sit at festivals. Halt, lances, there!
Warriors and brethren! hear. I own no truce—
I hold my life but as a weapon now