Sis. My honour?
De. This is but the first of my valour in your cause;
If you affect these Monuments ile make
You up an Armorie; meane tyme receave
My Service with this sword: if he provoke me
To fight with him agen, Ile cut his hand of
And bring that wo' me to present the next.
Sis. Whose hand, deare servant?
De. He is not worth the nameing; las, this does not
Deserve your knowledge. Only thinke what I
Dare do when your bright name is question[e]d,
And I in tyme may merit to be cald
The darling of your virgin thoughts.
Sis. I pray stay.
My name traduc'd? who was so impudent?
Do me the grace to let me know on whome
Your valour had been exercis'd.
De. Why, the formall thing Courtwell; I would [not] call him
Gentleman; but that I ha baffled him
You need no other witnes but his sword
With that fine holliday hilt, Ladie.
[She shutts the Doore.
Sis. Looke you, sir, I ha made fast the Doore,
Because I meane before you goe to have
A satisfaction for the base injury
You ha done me.
De. I done you injurie!
Sis. Not that I value Courtwell, whome you would
Pretend has been to saucy with my honour;
But, cause I scorne to owne a goodnes should
Depend upon your sword or vindication,
Ile fight with you my selfe in this small vollume
Against your bulke in folio.