Cyril. You dog! Though I wear woman’s garb, you’ll find
My sword is long and sharp.
Gama.Hush, pretty one!
Here’s a virago! Here’s a termagant!
If length and sharpness go for any thing,
You’ll want no sword while you can wag your tongue.
Flori. What need to talk of swords to such as he?
He’s old and crippled—(to Gama) Oh, if you were young,
And tolerably straight—and I could catch
You all alone, I’d—Ah!