Clem. I am bound in my indentures to keep my master’s secrets; and should I find a man in bed with you, I would not tell. Bess. Begone, sir; but no words, as you esteem my favour. Clem. But, mistress, I could wish you to look to your long seams; fights are dangerous. But am not I in a sweet taking, think you? Bess. I prithee, why? Clem. Why, if you should swagger and kill anybody, I, being a vintner, should be called to the bar. [_Exit_. Bess. Let none condemn me of immodesty, Because I try the courage of a man, Who on my soul’s a coward, beats my servants, Cuffs them, and, as they pass by him, kicks my maids; Nay, domineers over me, making himself Lord o’er my house and household. Yesternight I heard him make appointment on some business To pass alone this way. I’ll venture fair, But I will try what’s in him. _Enter_ Roughman _and_ Fawcett. Fawcett. Sir, I can now no farther; weighty business Calls me away. Roughman. Why, at your pleasure, then. Yet I could wish that ere I passed this field That I could meet some Hector, so your eyes Might witness what myself have oft repeated, Namely, that I am valiant. Fawcett. Sir, no doubt; But now I am in haste. Farewell. [_Exit_. Roughman. How many times brave words bear out a man! For if he can but make a noise, he’s feared. To talk of frays, although he ne’er had heart To face a man in field, that’s a brave fellow. I have been valiant, I must needs confess, In street and tavern, where there have been men Ready to part the fray; but for the fields, They are too cold to fight in. Bess. You are a villain, a coward; and you lie. [_Strikes him_. Roughman. You wrong me, I protest. Sweet, courteous gentleman, I never did you wrong. Bess. Wilt tell me that? Draw forth thy coward sword, and suddenly, Or, as I am a man, I’ll run thee through, And leave thee dead i’ the field. Roughman. Hold! as you are a gentleman. I have ta’en an oath I will not fight to-day. Bess. Th’ast took a blow already, and the lie: Will not both these enrage thee? Roughman. No; would you give the bastinado too, I will not break mine oath. Bess. Oh! your name’s Roughman: No day doth pass you, but you hurt or kill! Is this out of your calendar? Roughman. I! you are deceived. I ne’er drew sword in anger, I protest, Unless it were upon some poor, weak fellow, That ne’er wore steel about him. Bess. Throw your sword. Roughman. Here, sweet young sir; [_Gives up his sword_.] but, as you are a gentleman, Do not impair mine honour. Bess. Tie that shoe. Roughman. I shall, sir. Bess. Untruss that point.[2.24] Roughman. Any thing, this day, to save mine oath. Bess. Enough;--yet not enough. Lie down, Till I stride o’er thee. Roughman. Sweet sir, any thing.