_Mons._ Pish! pish! she told me yesterday as soon as you were gone, that she had led you into a fool's paradise, and made you believe she would go away with you--ha! ha! ha! _Ger._ Did she so?--I am no longer to doubt it then. [_Aside._ _Mons._ Ay, ay, she makes a mere fool of thee, I vow and swear; but don't be concerned, there's hardly a man of a thousand but has been made a fool of by some woman or other.--I have been made a fool of myself, man, by the women; I have, I vow and swear I have. _Ger._ Well, you have, I believe it, for you are a coxcomb. _Mons._ Lord! you need not be so touchy with one; I tell you but the truth, for your good; for though she does, I would not fool you any longer; but prithee don't be troubled at what can't be helped. Women are made on purpose to fool men: when they are children, they fool their fathers; and when they have taken their leaves of their hanging sleeves, they fool their gallants or dancing masters,--ha! ha! ha! _Ger._ Hark you, sir! to be fooled by a woman, you say, is not to be helped; but I will not be fooled by a fool. _Mons._ You show your English breeding now; an English rival is so dull and brutish as not to understand raillery; but what is spoken in your passion I'll take no notice of, for I am your friend, and would not have you my rival to make yourself ridiculous.--Come, prithee, prithee, don't be so concerned; for, as I was saying, women first fool their fathers, then their gallants, and then their husbands; so that it will be my turn to be fooled too (for your comfort); and when they come to be widows, they would fool the devil, I vow and swear.--Come, come, dear Gerrard, prithee don't be out of humour, and look so sillily. _Ger._ Prithee do not talk so sillily. _Mons._ Nay, faith, I am resolved to beat you out of this ill-humour. _Ger._ Faith, I am afraid I shall first beat you into an ill-humour. _Mons._ Ha! ha! ha! that thou shouldst be gulled so by a little gipsy, who left off her bib but yesterday!--faith I can't but laugh at thee. _Ger._ Faith, then I shall make your mirth (as being too violent) conclude in some little misfortune to you. The fool begins to be tyrannical. _Mons._ Ha! ha! ha! poor angry dancing-master! prithee match my Spanish pumps and legs with one of your best and newest sarabands; ha! ha! ha! come-- _Ger._ I will match your Spanish ear, thus, sir, and make you dance thus. [_Strikes and kicks him._ _Mons._ How! sa! sa! sa! then I'll make you dance thus. [Monsieur _draws his sword and runs at him, but_ GERRARD _drawing, he retires._ Hold! hold a little!--[_Aside._] A desperate disappointed lover will cut his own throat, then sure he will make nothing of cutting his rival's throat. _Ger._ Consideration is an enemy to fighting; if you have a mind to revenge yourself, your sword's in your hand.