SIL. His greatest enemy?

SCA. Yes.

SIL. Ah! zounds! I am delighted at it. (_To_ ARGANTE) You are an
enemy of that scoundrel Argante, are you?

SCA. Yes, yes; I assure you that it is so.

SIL. (_shaking_ ARGANTE'S _hand roughly_). Shake hands,
shake hands. I give you my word, I swear upon my honour, by the sword
I wear, by all the oaths I can take, that, before the day is over, I
shall have delivered you of that rascally knave, of that scoundrel
Argante. Trust me.

SCA. But, Sir, violent deeds are not allowed in this country.

SIL. I don't care, and I have nothing to lose.

SCA. He will certainly take his precautions; he has relations,
friends, servants, who will take his part against you.

SIL. Blood and thunder! It is all I ask, all I ask. (_Drawing his
sword_.) Ah! s'death! ah! s'blood! Why can I not meet him at this
very moment, with all these relations and friends of his? If he would
only appear before me, surrounded by a score of them! Why do they not
fall upon me, arms in hand? (_Standing upon his guard_.) What!
you villains! you dare to attack me? Now, s'death! Kill and slay!
(_He lunges out on all sides; as if he were fighting many people at
once_.) No quarter; lay on. Thrust. Firm. Again. Eye and foot. Ah!