Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9. Beaumont Francis

him that earn'd his Knighthood, e'r he had it,

      And then refus'd upon't, ran up to th' hilts.

      Sir Gr. Yes, let him run for me, I was never brought up to't,

      I never profest running i' my life.

      Nee. What art thou made on? thou tough villanous vermin.

      Will nothing destroy thee?

      Sir Gr. Yes, yes, assure your self

      Unkind words may do much.

      Nee. Why, dost thou want 'em?

      I've e'en consum'd my spleen to help thee to 'em:

      Tell me what sort of words they be would speed thee?

      I'll see what I can do yet.

      Sir Gr. I'm much beholding to you,

      You're willing to bestow huge pains upon me.

      Nee. I should account nothing too much to rid thee.

      Sir Gr. I wonder you'd not offer to destroy me,

      All the while your Uncle was here.