And most, for her sake!
Tresh. Ha ha, what should I
Know of your ways? A miscreant like yourself,
How must one rouse his ire? A blow?—that's pride
No doubt, to him! One spurns him, does one not?
Or sets the foot upon his mouth, or spits
Into his face! Come! Which, or all of these?
Mer. 'Twixt him and me and Mildred. Heaven be judge!
Can I avoid this? Have your will, my lord!
[He draws and, after a few passes, falls.