will pawn her best Mohair-Gown,
sell even her Silver-Thimble, and rob her Mistress to shew how truly she
loves me; or intrigue with some Heroick Sempstress, that will call me her
_Artaxerxes_, her _Agamemnon_, and give me six new Shirts.

Sir _Har_. And now the tedious Summer is elaps'd, and Winter ushers in
neglected Joys; Armies march home victorious from the Field, Ladies from
Parks and Plains that mourn'd their absence; a Croud of Pleasures glut the
varying Appetite, and Friends long absent meet with gayest Transports.

_Col_. Ay, Winter is the gay, the happy Season: I hate a Solitary Rural
Life, as if one were at variance with the World; to walk with Arms
a-cross, admire Nature's Works in Woods and Groves, talk to the Streams,
and tell the Trees our Passion, while Eccho's make a Mock at all we say--
Give me the shining Town, the glittering Theatres; there Nature best is
seen in Beauteous Boxes, where Beaus transported with the Heavenly Sight,
the little God sits pleas'd in ev'ry Eye, and Actors dart new Vigour from
the Stage, supported By the Spirit of full Pay--But what great Fortunes
buz about the Town; Red-Coats have carry'd off good store of Heiresses,
and that's the sure, tho' not the sweetest Game; besides, Sir _Harry_,
they talk of Peace, and we that have nothing but the Sword to trust to,
ought to provide against that dreadful Day.

_Knap_. Really, Sir, I have had some Thoughts of Marriage too; there's
nothing like being settl'd, to have a House of one's own, and Attendants
about one; besides, I'm the last Male, of a very ancient Family, and
shou'd I die without Children, the _Knap-sacks_ wou'd be quite extinct.

Sir _Har._ The Talk, the Pride, and Envy of the Town is Lady _Rodomont_,
whose Wit surprizes, whose Beauty ravishes, and a clear Estate of Six
thousand a Year distracts the admiring Train; but the Misfortune is, she
has Travell'd, had Experience, well vers'd in Gallantries of various
Courts; she admits Coquets, and rallies each Pretender, so resolutely fond
of Liberty, she slights the most accomplish'd of Mankind, there _Collonel_
is a Siege to prove a _Roman_ or a _Grecian_ Bravery.

_Col._ A _Roman_ or a _Grecian_, say you, bold _Britains_ laugh at all
their baubling Fights; and had _Achilles_, with his batt'ring Rams, felt
half the Fury of an _English_ General, _Troy_ had ne'er bully'd out a Ten
Years Siege--but Ladies are more craftily subdu'd; you mustn't storm a
Nymph with Sword and Pistol