Laun. Methinks thou art the moon.
Gwaine. Damn, this love! If I be the moon thou shalt find me no honeymoon. (Hits him again, they fight fiercer.)
Laun. Come on, thou art welcome. Oh!
Gwaine. Well, dost thou know me yet?
Laun. Methinks thou art one named Gwaine. Oh my bones!
Gwaine. Be this Winter?
Laun. I be warm now.
Gwaine. An dost thou love a Queen?
Laun. What mean’st thou?
Gwaine. I would rid thee of this damned love.