Euph. I can't bear it.
Esop. A Parroquet can prattle and look gaudy.
Euph. It may be so; but let me paint him and you in your proper Colours, I'll do it exactly, and you shall judge which I ought to chuse.
Esop. No, hold; I'm naturally not over-curious; besides, 'tis Pride makes People have their Pictures drawn.
Euph. Upon my Word, Sir, you may have yours taken a hundred times before any Body will believe 'tis done upon that Account.
Esop. [Aside.] How severe she is upon me! You are resolv'd then to persist, and be fond of your Feather; sigh for a Perriwig, and die for a Cravat string.
Euph. Methinks, Sir, you might treat with more respect what I've thought fit to own I value; your Affronts to him are doubly such to me; if you continue your provoking Language, you must expect my Tongue will sally too; and if you are as wise as some would make you, you can't but know I shou'd have Theme enough.
Esop. But is it possible you can love so much as you pretend?
Euph. Why do you question it?
Esop. Because Nobody loves so much as they pretend: But hark you, young Lady: Marriage is to last a long, long Time; and where one Couple bless the sacred Knot, a Train of Wretches curse the Institution. You are in an Age where Hearts are young and tender; a pleasing Object gets Admittance soon. But since to Marriage there's annexed this dreadful Word, For ever, the following Example ought to move you: