_Alph._ Ye shall Sir, Pray tell his mightiness here is a Gentleman By name _Alphonso_, would intreat his conference About affairs of State Sir, are ye answer'd? _Enter_ Sanchio _carried_. _Ped._ I must be Sir. _Sanch._ Stay, set me down, stay Signior, You must stay, and ye shall stay. _Alph._ Meaning me Sir? _Sanch._ Yes you Sir, you I mean, I mean you. _Alph._ Well Sir. Why should I stay? _Sanch._ There's reason. _Alph._ Reason Sir? _Sanch._ I reason Sir My wrong is greatest, and I will be served first, Call out the man of fame! _Alph._ How serv'd Sir? _Sanch._ Thus sir. _Alph._ But not before me. _Sanch._ Before all the world sir As my case stands. _Alph._ I have lost a daughter sir. _Sanch._ I have lost another worth five score of her sir. _Alph._ Ye must not tell me so. _San[c]h._ I have, and heark ye? Make it up five score more: Call out the fellow, And stand you by sir. _Ped._ This is the mad morriss. _Alph._ And I stand by? _Sanch._ I say stand by, and do it. _Alph._ Stand by among thy lungs. _Sanch._ Tu[r]n presently And say thy prayers, thou art dead. _Alph._ I scorn thee And scorn to say my prayers more than thou do'st, Mine is the most wrong, and my daughter dearest And mine shall first be righted. _Sanch._ Shall be righted. _Ped._ A third may live I see, pray hear me Gentlemen. _Sanch._ Shall be. _Alph._ I, shall be righted. _Sanch._ Now? _Alph._ Now. _Sanch._ Instantly. _Alph._ Before I stir. _Sanch._ Before me. _Alph._ Before any. _Sanch._ Dost thou consider what thou say'st? hast thou friends here Able to quench my anger, or perswade me After I have beaten thee into one main bruist And made thee spend thy state in rotten apples, Thou canst at length be quiet, shall I kill thee Divide thee like a rotten Pumpion, And leave thee stincking to posterity, There's not the least blow I shall give; but do's this Urge me no farther: I am first. _Alph._ I'll hang first. No goodman glory, 'tis not your bravado's, Your punctual honor, nor soldadoship. _Sanch._ Set me a little nearer. _Alph._ Let him sally. [Lin'd] with your quircks of carriage and discretion Can blow me off my purpose. Where's your credit With all your school points now? your decent arguing And apt time for performing: where are these toys, These wise ways, and most honorable courses, To take revenge? how dar'st thou talk of killing, Or think of drawing any thing but squirts When letchery has dry found[e]d thee? _Sanch._ Neerer yet, That I may spit him down: thou look'st like a man. _Ped._ I would be thought so Sir. _Sanch._ Prethee do but take me, And fling me upon that Puppy.