_Dem_. Thus deep in bloud wench,
And through the thickest ranks of Pikes.

_Cel_. Spur bravely
Your firie Courser, beat the troops before ye,
And cramb the mouth of death with executions.

_Dem_. I would do more than these: But prethee tell me,
Tell me my fair, where got'st thou this male Spirit?
I wonder at thy mind.

_Cel_. Were I a man then,
You would wonder more.

_Dem_. Sure thou wouldst prove a Souldier,
And some great Leader.

_Cel_. Sure I should do somewhat;
And the first thing I did, I should grow envious,
Extreamly envious of your youth, and honour.

_Dem_. And fight against me?

_Cel_. Ten to one, I should do it.

_Dem_. Thou wouldst not hurt me?

_Cel_. In this mind I am in
I think I should be hardly brought to strike ye,
Unless 'twere thus; but in my mans mind--