Wel. A Billet—whoever the Lady be, Reads.
She merits something for but believing I am worth her Mirth.
Oliv. I know not, Sir, how great a Jest you may make of it; but I assure you the Lady is in earnest, and if you be at leisure to hear Reason from her—
Wel. Fair and softly, my dear Love-Messenger, I am for no hasty Bargains; not but I shou’d be glad to hear Reason from any of the Sex—But I have been so damnably jilted—Is she of Quality?
Oliv. Yes.
Wel. Then I’ll not hear any thing from her: they are troublesome, and insolent; and if she have a Husband, to hide her Intrigues she has recourse to all the little Arts and Cunnings of her Sex; and she that jilts her Husband, will her Lover.
Oliv. She is not troubled with a Husband, Sir.
Wel. What, she’s parted from the Fool! then she’s expensive, and for want of Alimony, jilts all the believing Block-heads that she meets with.
Oliv. But this is a Maid, Sir.
Wel. Worse still! At every turn she’s raving on her Honour; then if she have a Kinsman, or a Brother, I must be challeng’d.