Thy coolness goes to freezing: thou'rt a coward.
M'Donald.
Thou knowest thou tell'st a falsehood.
Bland.
Thou shalt know
None with impunity speaks thus of me.
That to rouse thy courage. [Touches him gently, with his open hand, in crossing him. M'Donald looks at him unmoved.] Dost thou not yet feel?
M'Donald.
For thee I feel. And tho' another's acts
Cast no dishonour on the worthy man,
I still feel for thy father. Yet, remember,
I may not, haply, ever be thus guarded;
I may not always the distinction make.
However just, between the blow intended
To provoke, and one that's meant to injure.
Bland.
Hast thou no sense of honour?
M'Donald.