Vic. Madam Elvira!
Elv. Well, Monsieur Cut-throat?
Vic. Well, you are not scared at my face now?
Elv. I don’t know that—your face remains as it was.
Vic. Come, come, my queen, do me a little favour.
Elv. Well, what is that?
Vic. Just only die for love of me; I always make a point of never asking impossibilities of any woman.
Elv. Love is out of the question! I perhaps might like you, did I not know the lengths you go with that monkey Beatrice.
Vic. With whom?
Elv. I say with Beatrice. Bystanders see as much, sir, as players.