Come, sir, let's about it with speed: 'Tis expedition gives our king the sway; For expedition to the French give way; Swift to attack, or swift--to run away. [_Exeunt._ _Enter_ YOUNG MIRABEL _and_ BISARRE, _passing carelessly by one another_. _Bis._ [_Aside._] I wonder what she can see in this fellow, to like him? _Y. Mir._ [_Aside._] I wonder what my friend can see in this girl, to admire her? _Bis._ [_Aside._] A wild, foppish, extravagant, rake-hell! _Y. Mir._ [_Aside._] A light, whimsical, impertinent, madcap! _Bis._ Whom do you mean, sir? _Y. Mir._ Whom do you mean, madam? _Bis._ A fellow, that has nothing left to re-establish him for a human creature, but a prudent resolution to hang himself! _Y. Mir._ There is a way, madam, to force me to that resolution. _Bis._ I'll do it, with all my heart. _Y. Mir._ Then you must marry me. _Bis._ Lookye, sir, don't think your ill manners to me, shall excuse your ill usage of my friend; nor, by fixing a quarrel here, to divert my zeal for the absent; for I'm resolved, nay, I come prepared, to make you a panegyric, that shall mortify your pride, like any modern dedication. _Y. Mir._ And I, madam, like a true modern patron, shall hardly give you thanks for your trouble. _Bis._ Come, sir, to let you see what little foundation you have for your dear sufficiency, I'll take you to pieces. _Y. Mir._ And what piece will you chuse? _Bis._ Your heart, to be sure; because I should get presently rid on't: your courage I would give to a Hector, your wit to a lewd playmaker, your honour to an attorney, your body to the physicians, and your soul to its master. _Y. Mir._ I had the oddest dream last night of the Duchess of Burgundy; methought the furbelows of her gown were pinned up so high behind, that I could not see her head for her tail. _Bis._ The creature don't mind me! do you think, sir, that your humorous impertinence can divert me? No, sir, I'm above any pleasure that you can give, but that of seeing you miserable. And mark me, sir, my friend, my injured friend, shall yet be doubly happy, and you shall be a husband, as much as the rites of marriage, and the breach of them, can make you. [_Here_ MIRABEL _pulls out a Virgil, and reads to himself, while she speaks_. _Mir._ [Reading.] _At Regina dolos, (quis fallere possit amantem?)_ _Dissimulare etiam sperásti, perfide tantum_-- Very true. _Posse nefas._ By your favour, friend Virgil, 'twas but a rascally trick of your hero, to forsake poor pug so inhumanly. _Bis._ I don't know what to say to him. The devil----what's Virgil to us, sir?