Col. These excuses will not serve you—draw your sword, or I will strike.
Pul. (aside). Oh! the devil! I’m dead. (Aloud.) Listen to me. The first time I girt on my sword I made a vow that it should never be stained with blood.
Col. You ass in clothes! You shall either give up Nanon to me, or I will rid the world of you.
Pul. Listen to me. You have a quarrel with me out of jealousy, because I have taken your sweetheart from you; but I have none with you—on the contrary, I am sorry for you; it would be too bad to kill you, after having made a fool of you.
Col. I am not listening to you. Come, this blade shall be your answer.
Pul. I have no quarrel with you.
Col. What am I to do, then?
Pul. Call me some vile names, then I shall get angry, and come to blows with you.
Col. Very well. You are a scoundrel, a ruffian, a cowardly knave.
Pul. Supposing that what you say is the truth, what reason have I to be angry?