Col. My own Humour to a Hair!  How I admire such generous sprightly Virtue, your Reasoning, Madam, darts amazing brightness, ’where groveling Souls want courage to think freely, ay, Liberty’s the Source of all Enjoyments, a nourishing Delight, innate and durable.  I love the Harmony of Foreign Courts; your downright English Women are meer Mopes, sit dumb like Clocks that speak but once an Hour, supinely Grave and insolently Sullen, nor Smile but on good terms to Laugh, at us for Life:  But other Climates animate more warmly; Sexes alike are free, reciprocally gay, and Pleasures are persu’d without Reflection, if Principle or Fear refuse us Love; for I’m the tenderest of a Lady’s Honour, the Fair One still has tantalizing Charms, her tuneful Voice, her graceful, easie Movement, her lively Converse, happy turn of Thought, Language polite, keen Wit, fineness of Argument, but Marriage turns the Edge of all Society.

L. Rod. Pray, Collonel, how long have you taken up this Resolution?

Col.  I doat upon the Sex, admire their heav’nly Form, like beauteous Temples built by sacred Hands, where their bright Souls as Deities inhabit; but shou’d Love’s Queen, Celestial Citharea, descend in all her elegance of Beauty, the study’d Care of the officious Graces, with Wreaths of Jewels glittering round her Temples, her flowing Locks dispos’d in artful Circles, losely attir’d, and on a Down of Roses, with laughing Cupids hov’ring round the Bed.—­

L. Rod.  But Collonel.

Col A wondrous lovely Mien, kind melting Airs, soft snowy Breasts that pant with am’rous Sighs, Eyes lauguishing that steal forth welcome glances; Cheeks rip’ning, glowing, kindling, ravishing.

    To be confin’d, wou’d deaden all her Charms,
    And Matrimony fright me from her Arms.

L. Rod.  Good Collonel check a while this feign’d Career; for in describing her you wou’d refuse, you’re in a Rapture, and quite out of Breath; don’t depend too much on your fancy’d Prowess, some mortal Dames, less beauteous than a Goddess, have exercis’d and tam’d the boldest Heroes.

    Enter Mrs.  Lovejoy.

Mrs. Lov.  Madam, the Countess of Circumference, my Lady May-pole, and my Lady Bob-tail are just lighting at the Gate.

L. Rod.  Pray sup with me Collonel, and lets finish this Argument, I’m fond of disputing with a Person that talks well.

Col. [aside ] She’s peek’d, and my design must prove successful.

    Pride keeps me off, but Nature smooths my way;
    For what her Tongue wou’d hide, her Eyes betray.

[Exit.

L. Rod.  Cozen, did you ever hear the like?  The Collonel’s such an
Enemy to Marriage?

Mrs. Lov.  An Enemy to Marriage, Madam!

L. Rod.  As obstinately bent against it, as if he were incapable of Love; not that his Principles concern me, yet such Heresy in Men shou’d be subdu’d.