_Tophas._ I was the first that ever devised war, and therefore by
Mars himself had given me for my arms a whole armoury; and thus I
go as you see, clothed with artillery; it is not silks (milksops),
nor tissues, nor the fine wool of Ceres, but iron, steel, swords,
flame, shot, terror, clamour, blood and ruin that rocks asleep my
thoughts, which never had any other cradle but cruelty. Let me see,
do you not bleed?

_Dares._ Why so?

_Tophas._ Commonly my words wound.

_Samias._ What then do your blows?

_Tophas._ Not only wound, but also confound.

_Samias._ How darest thou come so near thy master, Epi? Sir Tophas,
spare us.

_Tophas._ You shall live. You, Samias, because you are little; you,
Dares, because you are no bigger; and both of you, because you are
but two; for commonly I kill by the dozen, and have for every
particular adversary a peculiar weapon....

_Samias._ What is this? Call you it your sword?

_Tophas._ No, it is my scimitar; which I, by construction often
studying to be compendious, call my smiter.