Cher. All's safe, I find. [Aside

Arch. Come, my dear, have you conned over the catechise I taught you last night? [161]

Cher. Come, question me.

Arch. What is love?

Cher. Love is I know not what, it comes I know not how, and goes I know not when.

Arch. Very well, an apt scholar.—[Chucks her under the chin.] Where does love enter?

Cher. Into the eyes.

Arch. And where go out?

Cher. I won't tell ye. [170]

Arch. What are the objects of that passion?