You think I am not worthy to be fought,
But I’ll not wrangle but with this talkative knife.
Cuchullain.
Put up your sword, I am not mocking you.
I’d have you for my friend, but if it’s not
Because you have a hot heart and a cold eye
I cannot tell the reason. You’ve got her fierceness,
And nobody is as fierce as those pale women.
[To the Young Kings.
We’ll keep him here in Muirthemne awhile.