_Enter_ Duarte, Alonzo, _and a_ Page.
_Dua_. I'le take you as I find you.
_Alon_. That were base--you see I am unarm'd.
_Dua_. Out with your Bodkin
Your Pocket-dagger, your Steletto, out with it,
Or by this hand I'le kill you: such as you are
Have studied the undoing of poor Cutlers,
And made all manly weapons out of fashion:
You carry Poniards to murder men,
Yet dare not wear a sword to guard your Honour.
_Rut_. That's true indeed: upon my life this gallant
Is brib'd to repeal banisht swords.
_Dua_. I'le shew you
The difference now between a _Spanish_ Rapier
And your pure Pisa.
_Alon_. Let me fetch a sword,
Upon mine honour I'le return.
_Dua._ Not so Sir.
_Alon._ Or lend me yours I pray you, and take this.
_Rut._ To be disgrac'd as you are, no I thank you
Spight of the fashion, while I live, I am
Instructed to go arm'd: what folly 'tis
For you that are a man, to put your self
Into your enemies mercy.
_Dua._ Yield it quickly
Or I'le cut off your hand, and now disgrace you,
Thus kick and baffle you: as you like this,
You may again prefer complaints against me
To my Uncle and my Mother, and then think
To make it good with a Poniard.
Pages:
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45