The Female Wits

by Anonymous

Prais. Ah! Madam! When once Virtue comes to strugle, either in Male or Female, it commonly yields.

Mars. You are waggish——Now for my Dance——Mrs.——-Mrs. Cross, Mrs. Cross, come you little Cherubim, your Dance.

A DANCE.

Aw'dwell. Pray, Madam, who is this Dance to entertain?

Mar. What, do you sit an Hour to study a cross Question? Why, to satisfie you, Sir, you are to suppose Fastin, in passing towards his Mothers Lodgings, may, out of some Gallery, see it; now you are answered.

Aw'dw. I am.

Mr. Prais. Ay, and sufficiently too: A Gallery Balcony, twenty Peepholes.

Enter Mrs. Cross

Mrs. Cross. Madam, I cou'd wish you wou'd not be disoblig'd if I gave up this Part, I shall get my self, nor you, no Credit by it.

Mar. How, Mrs. Cross! Disoblig'd! Assure your self, I shall resent it ill to the last Degree, what throw up my Heroine! my Isabella! Was there ever a Character more Chaste, more Noble, or more Pitiful?