Bel. Pray, out of pity to ourselves, let us find a better Subject; for I'm weary of this. Do you think your Husband inclined to Jealousy?
Lady Brute. O, no; he does not love me well enough for that. Lord, how wrong Men's Maxims are! They are seldom jealous of their Wives, unless they are very fond of 'em; whereas they ought to consider the Women's Inclinations; for there depends their Fate. Well, Men may talk; But they are not so wise as we——that's certain.
Bel. At least in our Affairs.
Lady Brute. Nay, I believe we shou'd out-do 'em in the Business of the State too: For, methinks, they do and undo, and make but bad Work on't.
Bel. Why then don't we get into the Intrigues of Government as well as they?
Lady Brute. Because we have Intrigues of our own, that make us more Sport, Child. And so let's in and consider of 'em.
[Exeunt.
SCENE, A Dressing-Room.
Enter Lady Fancyfull, Madamoiselle, and Cornet.
Lady Fan. How do I look this Morning?