Love. In most men's eyes she is.
Y. Book. And the music?
Love. Good, as we hear.
Y. Book. Some banquet followed?
Love. A sumptuous one, they say.
Y. Book. And neither of you all this while know who gave this treat? ha! ha!
Love. D'ye laugh at it?
Y. Book. How can I choose, to see you thus admire a slight divertisement I gave myself?
Love. You?
Y. Book. Even I!