Juan. Follow me, sir.
Fel. Where you please.
As they are going out, enter Pedro.
Ped. How now? Don Juan and Felix quarrelling?
Fel. Nay, only walking out.
Ped. What, walking out,
With hands upon your swords and inflam’d faces?
You shall not go.
Hern. That’s right, sir, keep them back,
They were about—