wned Lady of my _Primum Mobile_; that is, my
best Affections. [_In Rage_.

_Har_. I fear not your hard Words, Sir, but dare aloud pronounce, if
_Donna Mopsophil_ like me, the Farmer, as well as I like her, 'tis a
Match, and my Chariot's ready at the Gate to bear her off, d'ye see.

_Mop_. Ah, how that Chariot pleads. [_Aside_.

_Scar_. And I pronounce, that being intoxicated with the sweet Eyes of
this refulgent Lady, I come to tender her my noblest Particulars, being
already most advantageously set up with the circumstantial Implements of
my Occupation. [_Points to the Shop_.

_Mop_. A City Apothecary, a most genteel Calling--Which shall I chuse?
--Seignior Apothecary, I'll not expostulate the circumstantial Reasons
that have occasion'd me this Honour.

_Scar_. Incomparable Lady, the Elegancy of your Repartees most
excellently denotes the Profundity of your Capacity.

_Har_. What the Devil's all this? Good Mr. Conjurer, stand by--and don't
fright the Gentlewoman with your elegant Profundities. [_Puts him by_.

_Scar_. How, a Conjurer! I will chastise thy vulgar Ignorance, that
yclepes a Philosopher a Conjurer. [_In Rage_.

_Har_. Losaphers!--Prithee, if thou be'st a Man, speak like a Man--then.

_Scar_. Why, what do I speak like? what do I speak like?

_Har_. What do you speak like!--why you speak like a Wheel-Barrow.

_Scar_. How!

_Har_. And how.

[_They come up close together at half Sword Parry; stare on each
other for a while, then put up and bow to each other civilly_.

_Mop_. That's well, Gentlemen, let's have all Peace, while I survey you
both, and see which likes me best.

[_She goes between 'em, and surveys 'em both, they making
ridiculous bows on both sides, and Grimaces the while_.

--Ha, now on my Conscience, my two foolish Lovers, _Harlequin_ and
_Scaramouch_; how are my Hopes defeated?--but, faith, I'll fit you
both.
[_She views 'em both_.

_Scar_. So she's considering still, I shall be the happy Dog. [_Aside_.

_Har_. She's taking aim, she cannot chuse but like me best. [_Aside_.

_Scar_. Well, Madam, how does my Person propagate?
[_Bowing and smiling_.

_Mop_. Faith, Seignior, now I look better on you, I do not like your
Phisnomy so well as your Intellects; you discovering some circumstantial
Symptoms that ever denote a villanous Inconstancy.

_Scar_. Ah, are you pleas'd, Madam.

_Mop