DON PEDRO.
Good den, good den.
CLAUDIO.
Good day to both of you.
LEONATO.
Hear you, my lords,—
DON PEDRO.
We have some haste, Leonato.
LEONATO.
Some haste, my lord! well, fare you well, my lord:
Are you so hasty now?—well, all is one.
DON PEDRO.
Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man.
ANTONIO.
If he could right himself with quarrelling,
Some of us would lie low.
CLAUDIO.
Who wrongs him?
LEONATO.
Marry, thou dost wrong me; thou dissembler, thou.
Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword;
I fear thee not.
CLAUDIO.
Marry, beshrew my hand,
If it should give your age such cause of fear.
In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword.