attack and defence is the best and most necessary of all sciences.

PROF. PHIL. And for what, then, do you count philosophy? I think you
are all three very bold fellows to dare to speak before me with this
arrogance, and impudently to give the name of science to things which
are not even to be honoured with the name of art, but which can only
be classed with the trades of prize-fighter, street-singer, and
mountebank.

FEN. MAS. Get out, you dog of a philosopher.

MUS. MAS. Get along with you, you beggarly pedant.

DAN. MAS. Begone, you empty-headed college scout.

PROF. PHIL. How, scoundrels that you are!

(_The_ PHILOSOPHER _rushes upon them, and they all three
belabour him_.)

MR. JOUR. Mr. Philosopher.

PROF. PHIL. Infamous villains!

MR. JOUR. Mr. Philosopher!

FEN. MAS. Plague take the animal!

MR. JOUR. Gentlemen!