Bel. Why, truly, they do help us off with a good share on't: For were there no Men in the World, o'my Conscience, I shou'd be no longer a-dressing than I'm a-saying my Prayers; nay, tho' it were Sunday: For you know that one may go to Church without Stays on.
Lady Brute. But don't you think Emulation might do something? For every Woman you see desires to be finer than her Neighbour.
Bel. That's only that the Men may like her better than her Neighbour. No, if there were no Men, adieu fine Petticoats, we should be weary of wearing 'em.
Lady Brute. And adieu Plays, we should be weary of seeing 'em.
Bel. Adieu Hyde Park, the Dust would choak us.
Lady Brute. Adieu St. James's, walking would tire us.
Bel. Adieu London, the Smoke would stifle us.
Lady Brute. And adieu going to Church, for Religion wou'd ne'er prevail with us.
Both. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
Bel. Our Confession is so very hearty, sure we merit Absolution.