But this musician dogs me.
Laz. Shall I tell him
Upon your Highness’s request, politely,
To move away?
Prince. I doubt me, Lazaro,
He will not go for that, he’s obstinate.
Laz. How then, my lord?
Prince. Go up and strike him with your sword.
Laz. But were it brave in me, back’d as I am,
To draw my sword on one poor piping bird?