BLADES. Both, ma'am? (But he is not sure that he has not had a miraculous escape.)
PHOEBE (severely). 'Tis such as you, with your foolish flirting ways, that confuse the minds of women and make us try to be as silly as yourselves.
SPICER (crushed). Ma'am.
PHOEBE. I did not mean to hurt you. (She takes a hand of each and tries to advise them as if her curls were once more hidden under a cap.) You are so like little boys in a school. Do be good. Sit here beside me. I know you are very brave—
BLADES. Ha!
PHOEBE. And when you come back from the wars it must be so delightful to you to flirt with the ladies again.
SPICER. Oh, ma'am.
PHOEBE. As soon as you see a lady with a pretty nose you cannot help saying that you adore her.
BLADES (in an ecstasy). Nay, I swear.
PHOEBE. And you offer to her, not from love, but because you are so deficient in conversation.