ABRAM.
Quarrel, sir? No, sir.
SAMPSON.
But if you do, sir, I am for you. I serve as good a man as you.
ABRAM.
No better.
SAMPSON.
Well, sir.
Enter Benvolio.
GREGORY.
Say better; here comes one of my master’s kinsmen.
SAMPSON.
Yes, better, sir.
ABRAM.
You lie.
SAMPSON.
Draw, if you be men. Gregory, remember thy washing blow.
[They fight.]