1 Daugh. Valiant Romans,
Ye are welcome to your loves!

2 Daugh. Your death, fools!

Dec. We deserve ’em;
And, women, do your worst.

1 Daugh. Ye need not beg it.

2 Daugh. Which is kind Junius?

Serv. This.

2 Daugh. Are you my sweetheart?
It looks ill on’t! How long is’t, pretty soul,
Since you and I first loved? Had we not reason
To dote extremely upon one another?
How does my love? This is not he; my chicken
Could prate finely, sing a love-song.

Jun. Monster—

2 Daugh. Oh, now it courts!

Jun. Arm’d with more malice
Than he that got thee has, the devil.

2 Daugh. Good!
Proceed, sweet chick.

Jun. I hate thee; that’s my last.

2 Daugh. Nay, an you love me, forward!—No?—Come, sister,
Let’s prick our answers on our arrows’ points,
And make ’em laugh a little. Ye damn’d lechers,
Ye proud improvident fools, have we now caught ye?
Are ye i’ th’ noose? Since ye are such loving creatures,
We’ll be your Cupids: Do ye see these arrows?
We’ll send ’em to your wanton livers, goats.

1 Daugh. Oh, how I’ll trample on your hearts, ye villains,
Ambitious salt-itch’d slaves, Rome’s master- sins!
The mountain-rams tupt your hot mothers.

2 Daugh. Dogs,
To whose brave founders a salt whore gave suck!
Thieves, honour’s hangmen, do ye grin? Perdition
Take me for ever, if in my fell anger,
I do not out-do all example.

Enter Caratach.

Car. Where,
Where are these ladies?—Ye keep noble quarter!
Your mother thinks you dead or taken, upon which
She will not move her battle.—Sure these faces
I have beheld and known; they are Roman leaders!
How came they here?

2 Daugh. A trick, sir, that we used;
A certain policy conducted ’em
Unto our snare: We have done you no small service.
These used as we intend, we are for the battle.

Car. As you intend? Taken by treachery?

1 Daugh. Is’t not allow’d?

Car. Those that should gild our conquest,
Make up a battle worthy of our winning,
Catch’d up by craft?

2 Daugh. By any means that’s lawful.

Car. A woman’s wisdom in our triumphs? Out!
Out, [out,] ye sluts, ye follies! From our swords
Filch our revenges basely?—Arm again, gentlemen!—
Soldiers, I charge ye help ’em.