Ger. But won't you fight for your mistress?
Mons. I tell you, you shall not have the honour to be killed for her: besides I will not be hit in the teeth by her as long as I live, with the great love you had for her. Women speak well of their dead husbands; what will they do of their dead gallants?
Ger. But if you will not fight for her, you shall dance for her, since you desired me to teach you to dance too;—I'll teach you to dance thus—[Strikes his sword at his legs, Monsieur leaps.
Mons. Nay, if it be for the sake of my mistress, there's nothing I will refuse to do.
Ger. Nay, you must dance on.
Mons. Ay, ay, for my mistress, and sing too, la, la, la, ra, la.
Enter Hippolita and Prue.
Hip. What! swords drawn betwixt you two! what's the matter?
Mons. [Aside.] Is she here?—[Aloud.] Come, put up your sword; you see this is no place for us; but the devil eat me if you shall not eat my sword, but—
Hip. What's the matter, cousin?