Haz. I own I much admire the English Beauties but never yet have put their Fetters on.
Sure. Never in love! oh, then you have pleasure to come.
Haz. Rather a Pain when there’s no Hope attends it.
Sure. Oh, such Diseases quickly cure themselves.
Haz. I do not wish to find it so; for even in Pain I find a Pleasure too.
Sure. You are infected then, and come abroad for Cure.
Haz. Rather to receive my Wounds, Madam.
Sure. Already, Sir,—whoe’er she be, she made good haste to conquer, we have few here boast that Dexterity.
Haz. What think you of Chrisante, Madam?
Sure. I must confess your Love and your Despair are there plac’d right, of which I am not fond of being made a Confident, since I am assur’d she can love none but Friendly. Coldly.