GREGORY.
The heads of the maids?
SAMPSON.
Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads; take it in what sense thou wilt.
GREGORY.
They must take it in sense that feel it.
SAMPSON.
Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and ’tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.
GREGORY.
’Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool; here comes of the house of Montagues.
Enter Abram and Balthasar.
SAMPSON.
My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.
GREGORY.
How? Turn thy back and run?
SAMPSON.
Fear me not.
GREGORY.
No, marry; I fear thee!