Lady Brute. My Eyes gadding! Pr'ythee after who, Child?
Bel. Why, after one that thinks you hate him, as much as I know you love him.
Lady Brute. Constant you mean.
Bel. I do so.
Lady Brute. Lord, what shou'd put such a thing into your Head?
Bel. That which puts things into most People's Heads, Observation.
Lady Brute. Why what have you observ'd, in the Name of Wonder?
Bel. I have observed you blush when you met him; force yourself away from him; and then be out of humour with every thing about you: In a Word, never was poor Creature so spurr'd on by Desire, and so rein'd in with Fear.
Lady Brute. How strong is Fancy!
Bel. How weak is Woman!