Greg. The Quarrell is betweene our Masters, and vs their men
Samp. 'Tis all one, I will shew my selfe a tyrant: when
I haue fought with the men, I will bee ciuill with the
Maids, and cut off their heads
Greg. The heads of the Maids?
Sam. I, the heads of the Maids, or their Maiden-heads,
Take it in what sence thou wilt
Greg. They must take it sence, that feele it
Samp. Me they shall feele while I am able to stand:
And 'tis knowne I am a pretty peece of flesh
Greg. 'Tis well thou art not Fish: If thou had'st, thou had'st beene poore Iohn. Draw thy Toole, here comes of the House of the Mountagues. Enter two other Seruingmen.
Sam. My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I wil back thee
Gre. How? Turne thy backe, and run
Sam. Feare me not
Gre. No marry: I feare thee
Sam. Let vs take the Law of our sides: let them begin