Heart. Let me see——Your Vanity, Madam, I take to be about some eight Degrees higher than any Woman's in the Town, let t'other be who she will; and my Indifference is naturally about the same Pitch. Now, could you find the way to turn this Indifference into Fire and Flames, methinks your Vanity ought to be satisfy'd; and this, perhaps, you might bring about upon pretty reasonable Terms.
Lady Fan. And pray at what rate would this Indifference be bought off, if one shou'd have so depraved an Appetite to desire it?
Heart. Why, Madam, to drive a Quaker's Bargain, and make but one word with you, if I do part with it—you must lay me down—your Affectation.
Lady Fan. My Affectation, Sir!
Heart. Why, I ask you nothing but what you may very well spare.
Lady Fan. You grow rude, Sir. Come, Madamoiselle, 'tis high time to be gone.
Madam. Allons, allons, allons.
Heart. [Stopping them.] Nay, you may as well stand still; for hear me you shall, walk which way you please.
Lady Fan. What mean you, Sir?