Eust.  Nay, then you must go; I must claim mine own.

Both.  Away, away with her.

Char.  Let her alone, pray let her alone, [She strikes off_ and take your Coxcomb up:  Let me talk [Eustace’s hat. civilly a while with you, Brother.  It may be on some terms I may part with her.

Eust.  O, is your heart come down? what are your terms, Sir?  Put up, put up.

Char.  This is the first and chiefest; [Snatches away his sword] let’s walk a turn.  Now stand off, fools, I advise ye, stand as far off as you would hope for mercy:  this is the first sword yet I ever handled, and a sword’s a beauteous thing to look upon; and if it hold, I shall so hunt your insolence:  ’tis sharp, I’m sure, and if I put it home, ’tis ten to one I shall new pink your Sattins; I find I have spirit enough to dispose of it, and will enough to make ye all examples; let me toss it round, I have the full command on’t.  Fetch me a native Fencer, I defie him; I feel the fire of ten strong spirits in me.  Do you watch me when my Uncle is absent? this is my grief, I shall be flesh’d on Cowards; teach me to fight, I willing am to learn.  Are ye all gilded flies, nothing but shew in ye? why stand ye gaping? who now touches her? who calls her his, or who dares name her to me? but name her as his own; who dares look on her? that shall be mortal too; but think, ’tis dangerous.  Art thou a fit man to inherit Land, and hast no wit nor spirit to maintain it?  Stand still, thou sign of a man, and pray for thy friends, pray heartily, good prayers may restore ye.

Ang.  But do not kill ’em, Sir.

Char.  You speak too late, Dear; it is my first fight, and I must do bravely, I must not look with partial eyes on any; I cannot spare a button of these Gentlemen; did life lie in their heel, Achilles like, I’d shoot my anger at those parts, and kill ’em.  Who waits within?

Ser.  Sir.

Char.  View all these, view ’em well, go round about ’em, and still view their faces; round about yet, see how death waits upon ’em, for thou shalt never view ’em more.

Eust.  Pray hold, Sir.

Char.  I cannot hold, you stand so fair before me; I must not hold; ’twill darken all my glories.  Go to my Uncle, bid him post to the King, and get my pardon instantly, I have need on’t.

Eust.  Are you so unnatural?

Char.  You shall die last, Sir, I’ll take thee dead, thou art no man to fight with.  Come, will ye come?  Me-thinks I’ve fought whole Battels.

Cow.  We have no quarrel to you that we know on, Sir.

Egre.  We’ll quit the house, and ask ye mercy too.  Good Lady, let no murther be done here; we came but to parly.

Char.  How my sword thirsts after them!  Stand away, Sweet.

Eust.  Pray, Sir, take my submission, and I disclaim for ever.