Loves, hatreds, sympathies, antipathies,
And all the intricate stuff quarrels are made of.
MARGARET enters in boy's apparel.
Sir W. What pretty boy have we here?
Marg. Bon jour, messieurs. Ye have handsome English faces,
I should have ta'en ye else for other two,
I came to seek in the forest.
Sir W. Who are they?
Marg. A gallant brace of Frenchmen, curl'd monsieurs,
That men say, haunt these woods, affecting privacy,