filthy Strumpet!  Had I been by, I’d soon have made her smart for’t!  Any but such a Hen-peck’d Fool as you, that had but heard her say so, wou’d straight have given her such a dash o’th’ Chops as shou’d have beat her Teeth into her Throat, and quickly spoil’d her Prating.  But I am plagu’d with one that dares not speak a Word to vindicate me.  If you are a weary of me, tell me so; for I can quickly mend me self, if you’ll but say the Word:  And if you will prefer your wrinkled Wife before my Youth and Beauty, with all my heart, for I’m resolv’d I’ll never lead this Life!  To be abus’d by an old Withered Hag!  I have no patience when I think of it:  A dirty homely Joan!  For my part, I admire how thou coud’st love her:  She frets, I’ll warrant you, because she lies alone:  But who that is not Mad, wou’d lie with such a sapless piece of wither’d Flesh as she, when he may lie by such a one as I, that’s sweet, and fresh, plump, brisk and airy, and that’s full of Juice, just in the Bloom of all my Youth and Beauty.  But if to this thou still prefer’st thy Dowd; take her for me, and much-good-do-thee with her.

By this Discourse, this Impudent and filthy Trull, quite sham’d him out of any thoughts of Vertue; and therefore that he might the better please her, he replies,

My dear, Thou canst not sure think me so mad as to regard her foolish Idle prate, or to leave thee for twenty such as she is.  No, never think I have so little Wit, I gave her such a Reprimand as soon as she had spoke, that cool’d her Courage in an instant:  for I let her know her Tittle-Tattle would be all in vain; and that I was resolv’d I would be absolute.  Shall I be ty’d by such a one as she?  No, Love, I scorn it.  And for her Tongue, let me alone to tame it:  Winter is coming on and then I’ll make her keep her breath to warm her hands; for she shall have from me no other firing.  Let her rail on, and see what she can get by’t; whilst thee and I delight our selves in Pleasures; I’ll be no Slave to that which I possess:  Come, thou art mine, and shalt have what thou wilt; my Love to thee is more then to my Heir:  shall I live sparing for a Brood of Bratts, that for my Means wish me in my Grave!  No, I know better things:  I will my self enjoy it while I live, for when I’m gone, the World is gone with me:  Thou hast my heart, my Dear, and I’ll not leave thee; tho’ she shou’d Chat until her Tongue be weary.  I’ll find another way to make her quiet; or she shall have but very small Allowance:  She tells me, Grief will kill her very shortly:  I wish it wou’d, I shou’dn’t grutch the Charges of giving her a Coffin and a Grave.

I (says the Coaxing Jilt) I like you now.  Do as you say, and then I’ll warrant you, you’ll quickly make the Flirt submit her self:  And win my heart for ever.