Sir To. Give me.—[Reads.] Youth, whatsoever thou art, thou art but a scurvy fellow.
Fab. Good and valiant.
Sir To. Wonder not, nor admire not in thy mind, why I do call thee so, for I will show thee no reason for't.
Fab. A good note; that keeps you from the blow of the law.
Sir To. Thou comest to the Lady Olivia, and in my sight she uses thee kindly: but thou liest in thy throat, that is not the matter I challenge thee for.
Fab. Very brief, and exceeding good sense-less.
Sir To. I will way-lay thee going home; where if it be thy chance to kill me,—
Fab. Good.
Sir To. Thou killest me like a rogue and a villain.
Fab. Still you keep o' the windy side of the law: Good.