MERC. Yours; and there you get it, sharp. (Mercury gives him a slap.)
SOS. Ah! Ah! This is a fine game!
MERC. No; it is only a laughing matter, a reply to your quips.
SOS. Good heavens! Friend, how you swing out your arm without any one saying anything to you.
MERC. These are my lightest clouts, little ordinary smacks.
SOS. If I were as hasty as you, we should have a fine ado.
MERC. All this is nothing as yet: it is merely to fill up time; we shall soon see something else; but let us continue our conversation.
SOS. I give up the game. (He turns to go away.)
MERC. Where are you going?
SOS. What does it matter to you?