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.