o no purpose; ever embarking in
adventures, yet never comes to harbour.

SHARP. That's because he always sets out in foul weather, loves to
buffet with the winds, meet the tide, and sail in the teeth of
opposition.

HEART. What! Has he not dropt anchor at Araminta?

BELL. Truth on't is she fits his temper best, is a kind of floating
island; sometimes seems in reach, then vanishes and keeps him busied in
the search.

SHARP. She had need have a good share of sense to manage so capricious a
lover.

BELL. Faith I don't know, he's of a temper the most easy to himself in
the world; he takes as much always of an amour as he cares for, and quits
it when it grows stale or unpleasant.

SHARP. An argument of very little passion, very good understanding, and
very ill nature.

HEART. And proves that Vainlove plays the fool with discretion.

SHARP. You, Bellmour, are bound in gratitude to stickle for him; you
with pleasure reap that fruit, which he takes pains to sow: he does the
drudgery in the mine, and you stamp your image on the gold.

BELL. He's of another opinion, and says I do the drudgery in the mine.
Well, we have each our share of sport, and each that which he likes best;
'tis his diversion to set, 'tis mine to cover the partridge.

HEART. And it should be mine to let 'em go again.

SHARP. Not till you had mouthed a little, George. I think that's all
thou art fit for now.

HEART. Good Mr. Young-Fellow, you're mistaken; as able as yourself, and
as nimble, too, though I mayn't have so much mercury in my limbs; 'tis
true, indeed, I don't force appetite, but wait the natural call of my
lust, and think it time enough to be lewd after I have had the
temptation.

BELL. Time enough, ay, too soon, I should rather have expected, from a
person of your gravity.

HEART. Yet it is oftentimes too late with some of you young, termagant,
flashy sinners--you have all the guilt of the intention, and none of the
pleasure of the practice--'tis true you are so eager in pursuit of the
temptation, that you save the devil the trouble of leading you into it.
Nor is it out of discretion that you don't swallow that very hook
yourselves have baited, but you are cloyed with the preparative, and what
you mean for a whet, turns the edge of your puny stomachs. Your love is
like your courage, which you show for the first year or two upon all
occasions; till in a little time, being disabled or disarmed, you abate
of your v