Const. Yet not one kind Glance in two Years, is somewhat strange.
Heart. Not strange at all; she don't like you, that's all the Business.
Const. Pr'ythee, don't distract me.
Heart. Nay, you are a good handsome young Fellow, she might use you better: Come, will you go see her? Perhaps she may have chang'd her Mind; there's some Hopes as long as she's a Woman.
Const. O, 'tis in vain to visit her! Sometimes to get a Sight of her, I visit that Beast her Husband; but she certainly finds some Pretence to quit the Room as soon as I enter.
Heart. 'Tis much she don't tell him you have made Love to her too; for that's another good-natur'd thing usual amongst Women, in which they have several Ends. Sometimes 'tis to recommend their Virtue, that they may be lewd with the greater Security. Sometimes 'tis to make their Husbands fight, in hopes they may be kill'd, when their Affairs require it should be so: but most commonly 'tis to engage two Men in a Quarrel, that they may have the Credit of being fought for; and if the Lover's kill'd in the Business, they cry, Poor Fellow, he had ill Luck——and so they go to Cards.
Const. Thy Injuries to Women are not to be forgiven. Look to't, if ever thou dost fall into their Hands——
Heart. They can't use me worse than they do you, that speak well of 'em. O ho! here comes the Knight.
Enter Sir John Brute.
Heart. Your humble Servant, Sir John.