First Lord
Sir, I would advise you to shift a shirt; the
violence of action hath made you reek as a
sacrifice: where air comes out, air comes in:
there's none abroad so wholesome as that you vent.
Cloten
If my shirt were bloody, then to shift it. Have I hurt him?
Second Lord
[Aside] No, 'faith; not so much as his patience.
First Lord
Hurt him! his body's a passable carcass, if he be
not hurt: it is a thoroughfare for steel, if it be not hurt.
Second Lord
[Aside] His steel was in debt; it went o' the
backside the town.