or so? you understand me.

_Cle_. I understand that thou'rt an impudent fellow,
Whom I must cudgel into better manners.

_Fal_. Pox on't, who bears up now, _Labree_?

_Cle_. Beat thee till thou confess thou art an Ass,
And on thy knees confess it to _Isillia_,
Who after that shall scorn thee.

_Lab_. Railly with him, Sir, 'tis your only way, and put it
Off with a jest; for he's in fury, but dares not
Strike i'th' Court.

_Fal_. But must you needs do this, needs fight, _Cleontius_?

_Cle_. Yes, by all means, I find my self inclin'd to't.

_Fal_. You shall have your desire, Sir, farewel.

_Cle_. When, and where?

_Fal_. Faith, very suddenly, for I think it will not be
Hard to find men of your trade,
Men that will fight as long as you can do,
And Men that love it much better than I,
Men that are poor and damn'd, fine desperate Rogues,
Rascals that for a Pattacoon a Man
Will fight their Fathers,
And kiss their Mothers into peace again:
Such, Sir, I think will fit you.

_Cle_. Abusive Coward, hast thou no sense of honour?

_Fal_. Sense of honour! ha, ha, ha, poor _Cleontius_.

_Enter_ Aminta _and_ Olinda.

_Am_. How now, Servant, why so jovial?

_Fal_. I was laughing, Madam--at--

_Cle_. At what, thou thing of nothing--

_Am_. Cousin _Cleontius_, you are angry.

_Cle_. Madam, it is unjustly then, for Fools
Should rather move the Spleen to Mirth than Anger.

_Am_. You've too much wit to take ought ill from him:
Let's know your quarrel.

_Fal_. By _Jove, Labree_, I am undone again.

_Cle_. Madam, it was about--

_Fal_. Hold, dear _Cleontius_, hold, and I'll do any thing. [_Aside_.

_Cle_. Just nothing--

_Fal_. He was a little too familiar with me.

_Cle_. Madam, my Sister _Isillia_--

_Fal_. A curse, he will out with it--
[_Aside, pulls him by the Arm_.

_Cle_. Confess she is your Mistress. [_Aside_.

_Fal_. I call my Mistress, Madam.

_Am_. My Cousin _Isillia_ your Mistress!
Upon my word, you are a happy Man.

_Fal_. By _Jove_, if she be your Cousin, Madam,
I love her much the better for't.

_Am_. I am beholding to you,
But then it seems I have lost a Lover of you.

_Cle_. Confess she has, or I'll so handle you.

[_Ex_. Labree.

_Fal_. That's too much, _Cleontius_--but I will,
By _Jove_, Madam, I must not have a Mistress that
Has more Wit than my self, they ever require
More than a Man's able to give