Amid.  I will not fight.

Hip.  Confess, then, Angelina Is not so fair as is Honoria.

Amid.  I do confess; now are you satisfied?

Hip.  There’s more behind; confess her not so worthy
To be beloved, nor to possess Gonsalvo,
As fair Honoria is.

Amid.  That’s somewhat hard.

Hip.  But you must do’t, or die.

Amid.  Well, life is sweet; She’s not so worthy:  Now, let me be gone.

Hip.  No, never to my master; swear to quit His service, and no more to see his face.

Amid.  I fain would save my life, but that, which you
Propose, is but another name to die. 
I cannot live without my master’s sight.

Hip.  Then you must fight with me for him.

Amid.  I would Do any thing with you, but fighting for him.

Hip.  Nothing but that will serve.

Amid.  Lay by our swords, And I’ll scratch with you for him.

Hip.  That’s not manly.

Amid.  Well, since it must be so, I’ll fight:—­Unbutton.

[HIPPOLITO unbuttons slowly.

How many buttons has he?  I’ll be one
Behind him still. [Aside.

[Unbuttons one by one after him.  HIPPOLITO makes more haste.

You are so prodigal! if you loved my master,
You would not tear his doublet so:—­How’s this! 
Two swelling breasts! a woman, and my rival! 
The stings of jealousy have given me courage,
Which nature never gave me: 
Come on, thou vile dissembler of thy sex;
Expect no mercy; either thou or I
Must die upon this spot:  Now for Gonsalvo—­
Sa—­Sa—­

Hip.  This courage is not counterfeit; ah me!  What shall I do? for pity, gentle boy—­

Amid.  No pity; such a cause as ours Can neither give nor take it:  If thou yieldest, I will not spare thee; therefore, fight it out. [Tears open his doublet.

Hip.  Death to my hopes! a woman! and so rare
A beauty, that my lord must needs doat on her. 
I should myself, if I had been a man: 
But, as I am, her eyes shoot death at me.

Amid.  Come, have you said your prayers?

Hip.  For thy confusion,—­
Thou ravenous harpy, with an angel’s face,—­
Thou art discovered, thou too charming rival;
I’ll be revenged upon those fatal eyes.

Amid.  I’ll tear out thine.

Hip.  I’ll bite out hungry morsels From those plump cheeks, but I will make them thinner.

Amid.  I’d beat thee to the blackness of a Moor. 
But that the features of thy face are such,
Such damnable, invincible good features,
That as an Ethiop thou would’st still be loved.

Hip.  I’ll quite unbend that black bow o’er thine eyes; I’ll murder thee, and Julia shall have him, Rather than thou.