Coll. Cherish that Thought; believe there is that Man; believe you see him now; observe him well.
L. Rod. Ha!
Coll. Read from his Eyes his passionate Concern, his flattering Hopes, his anxious killing Fears; examine ev'ry Symptom, feel his Tremblings, search to his Heart, and there find Truth unblemish'd; approve his Flame, and nourish it with Favours.
L. Rod. Have I caught you, Collonel; is this the Sum of all your
Self-sufficiency, your Matrimonial Hate, and boasted Liberty. [Aside.]
His Merits probably may vie with any, but sure he last shou'd hope a
Lady's Graces, who saucily arraigns her Sex's Pow'r.
Enter Nicknack.
Mr. Nicknack, I have a Miracle to tell you, the Collonel from a blustering, ranting Heroe is dwindl'd to a panting, pining Lover; talks in blank Verse, and Sighs in mournful postures: He the fam'd Pyramus, and I bright Thisbe.
Nic. I thought, Madam, the Collonel had been a profess'd Marriage-hater.
L. Rod. Mr. Nicknack, we'll divert our selves at Picquet. When you recover, Collonel, from this Lethargy, you'll play a Pool with us; Ladies admit all sorts to lose their Mony. [Exit Lady Rod. and Nick.
Coll. I have plaid a fine Card truly, now shall I be number'd with those doating Fools, her Pride encourages, then Jilts, and laughs at. She's fair, but, oh! the Treachery of her Sex.
Enter Sir Harry.