id believes, and blesses, when once you ha'
rifl'd, ravish'd and enjoy'd, ungratefully you slight the yielding
Charmer; your Love boil'd o'er descends to cold Indifference, and a
regardless Look rewards her Favours; were I inclin'd to wave my
Resolutions, and yield my self a Victim to Love's Pow'r, were I to chuse a
Man by Fortune slighted, and raise him to a more than common Affluence;
such is the Temper of your graceless Sex, there's not a Cottage Swain that
proves sincere.

_Coll_. Cou'd you then, Madam, condescend to love, and cou'd a Lover
manifest his Passion, by constant waiting, vigilant Observance, by
sacerdotal Plights, and Faith inviolate, wou'd you prove kind, and take
him to your Arms.

L. _Rod_. Of things impossible we lightly talk; if such a Man were found,
perhaps, I might.

_Coll_. Cherish that Thought; believe there is that Man; believe you see
him now; observe him well.

L. _Rod_. Ha!

_Coll_. Read from his Eyes his passionate Concern, his flattering Hopes,
his anxious killing Fears; examine ev'ry Symptom, feel his Tremblings,
search to his Heart, and there find Truth unblemish'd; approve his Flame,
and nourish it with Favours.

L. _Rod_. Have I caught you, Collonel; is this the Sum of all your
Self-sufficiency, your Matrimonial Hate, and boasted Liberty. [_Aside_.]
His Merits probably may vie with any, but sure he last shou'd hope a
Lady's Graces, who saucily arraigns her Sex's Pow'r.

_Enter_ Nicknack.

Mr. _Nicknack_, I have a Miracle to tell you, the Collonel from a
blustering, ranting Heroe is dwindl'd to a panting, pining Lover; talks in
blank Verse, and Sighs in mournful postures: He the fam'd _Pyramus_, and I
bright _Thisbe_.

_Nic_. I thought, Madam, the Collonel had been a profess'd Marriage-hater.

L. _Rod_. Mr. _Nicknack_, we'll divert our selves at Picquet. When you
recover, Collonel, from this Lethargy, you'll play a Pool with us; Ladies
admit all sorts to lose their Mony. [_Exit Lady_ Rod. _and_ Nick.

_Coll_. I have plaid a fine Card truly, now shall I be number'd with
those doating Fools, her Pride encourages, then Jilts, and laughs at.
She's fair, but, oh! the Treachery of her Sex.

_Enter Sir_ Harry.

Sir _Har_. My dear Collonel, prithee why so pensive? I have had the
pleasantest Adventure this Afternoon, going to the Bank to receive Mony;
in _Pater-Noster-Row_ I saw two of the loveliest Sempstresses the Trade
e'er countenanc'd; I went into the Shop, st