Mrs. Lov. Impudence, Sir Harry, is a lewd Woman’s Talent, and yet what Creature is there so much dash’d as such an one that happens among virtuous Ladies.  If the Passion you profess be real, proceed with Honour, and you may be heard:  Not that I speak this to increase your Vanity; Ambition only sways my Inclinations, and you must know; I have a mighty mind to be a Lady.

Sir Har. A Lady! why, my Servants shall all call you so; we’ll live together like Man and Wife, and I’ll be so Constant, and so full of Love, that ev’ry body shall believe we’re marry’d.

Mrs. Lov. Love and Constancy, Sir Harry, will plainly tell ev’ry body we are not marry’d.

Sir Har. [aside] Have her I must; but how shall I contrive it?—­Oh! a lucky Thought seizes me.  Some Ladies after they have refus’d prodigious Settlements, tell ’em but a Secret, and they’ll grant you any thing.  I’ll trump up a delicate Lie to tickle her Curiosity and serve the Collonel.——­Well, Madam, since you are resolv’d to cross me, I must apply my self to those more kind tho’ less agreeable, tho’ had you giv’n me but the least Encouragement to have shown my opinion of your Parts as well as Person, I had trusted you with a Story worth your Attention, tho’ ’tis a most prodigious Secret.

Mrs. Lov.  A Secret!  Sir Harry, positively, I will know it.

Sir Har, Then ev’ry body’ll know it for a Secret.  ’Tis a thing of that dangerous Consequence, Madam, shou’d it e’er be divulg’d, I may have my Throat cut about it; and pray, what security have I either for your Fidelity, or that in return you’ll favour my Addresses.

Mrs. Lov.  ’Tis well known, Sir Harry, I can keep a Secret; I have found Ladies cheat at Cards, seen Ladies steal Tea-Spoons, and have never spoke on’t; nay more, I once caught a Lady making her Husband a Cuckold, and I never discover’d it.——­I’ll tell you who it was, my Lady Elcebeth.——­

Sir. Har. Nay, Madam, you have giv’n me prodigious Proofs of your Secrecy, and I’ll disclose the Matter. Collonel Blenheim having been so intollerably us’d by Lady Rodomont is just going to be marry’d to my Lady Catterwawl, the rich Widow in the Mewse.

Mrs. Lov.  Indeed!

Sir Har.  The Lady has regarded him some Years, and her Woman, Mrs. Squatt, has often brought him Presents and Messages which he receiv’d but coldly, admiring Lady Rodomont; but her ill treatment makes him now resolve gratefully to marry one, who not only will advance his Fortune, but intirely Loves him.

Mrs. Lov.  Sir Harry, you have oblig’d me infinitely, I wou’d’nt but have known this Story for the World.

Sir Har.  But when shall we be happy in each other?

Mr. Lov.  I’ll give you leave to hope; when I have study’d well, what Virtue is, I’ll tell you more; but at present I must leave you, for I have a hundr’d and fifty Holes to mend in a lac’d Head just going to the Wash.