And when we fly them, they pursue:
Lucy.
But leave us when they’ve won us.
Lucy. Love is so very whimsical in both Sexes, that it is impossible to be lasting.—But my Heart is particular, and contradicts my own Observation.
Polly. But really, Mistress Lucy, by his last Behaviour, I think I ought to envy you.—When I was forc’d from
him, he did not shew the least Tenderness.—But perhaps, he hath a Heart not capable of it.
[ AIR XLIX. Would Fate to me Belinda give.]
Among the Men, Coquettes we find,