If false to you, were fatal to myself.
Est. Why, what else means the glittering steel, my Lord,
That bristles in the rear of these fine words?
What can it mean, but, failing to cajole,
To fight or force me from my just pretension?
Ast. Nay, might I not ask ev’n the same of you,
The nodding helmets of whose men at arms
Out-crest the plumage of your lady court?
Est. But to defend what yours would force from me.
Ast. Might not I, lady, say the same of mine?