Olin. Uds my life! here's the queen's music just going to us; you shall decide your quarrel by a dance.
Sab. Who stops the fiddles?
Cel. Base and treble, by your leaves, we arrest you at these ladies' suits.
Flo. Come on, sirs, play me a jig; you shall see how I'll baffle him.
DANCE.
Flo. Your judgment, ladies.
Olin. You, sir; you, sir: This is the rarest gentleman! I could live and die with him—
Sab. Lord, how he sweats! please you, sir, to make use of my handkerchief?
Olin. You and I are merry, and just of an humour, sir; therefore we two should love one another.
Sab. And you and I are just of an age, sir; and therefore, methinks, we should not hate one another.