Mon. How can you labour thus for my undoing?
I must confess, indeed, I owe you more
Than ever I can hope or think to pay.
There always was a friendship 'twixt our families;
And therefore when my tender parents died,
Whose ruined fortunes too expired with them,
Your father's pity and his bounty took me,
A poor and helpless orphan, to his care.
Pol. 'Twas Heaven ordained it so, to make me happy.
Hence with this peevish virtue! 'tis a cheat;
And those who taught it first were hypocrites.
Come, these soft tender limbs were made for yielding!
Mon. Here on my knees, by Heaven's blest power I swear, [Kneels.
If you persist, I ne'er henceforth will see you,
But rather wander through the world a beggar,
And live on sordid scraps at proud men's doors;
For, though to fortune lost, I still inherit
My mother's virtues, and my father's honour.
Pol. Intolerable vanity! your sex
Was never in the right; you're always false,
Or silly; even your dresses are not more
Fantastic than your appetites; you think
Of nothing twice; opinion you have none:
To-day you're nice, to-morrow not so free;
Now smile, then frown; now sorrowful, then glad;
Now pleased, now not; and all you know not why!
Virtue you affect, inconstancy's your practice;
And, when your loose desires once get dominion,
No hungry churl feeds coarser at a feast;
Every rank fool goes down—
Mon. Indeed, my lord,
I own my sex's follies; I've them all,
And, to avoid its faults, must fly from you.
Therefore, believe me, could you raise me high
As most fantastic woman's wish could reach,
And lay all nature's riches at my feet,
I'd rather run a savage in the woods
Amongst brute beasts, grow wrinkled and deformed
As wildness and most rude neglect could make me,
So I might still enjoy my honour safe
From the destroying wiles of faithless men. [Exit.
Pol. Who'd be that sordid foolish thing called man,
To cringe thus, fawn, and flatter for a pleasure,
Which beasts enjoy so very much above him?
The lusty bull ranges through all the field,
And, from the herd singling his female out,
Enjoys her, and abandons her at will.
It shall be so; I'll yet possess my love,
Wait on, and watch her loose unguarded hours;
Then, when her roving thoughts have been abroad,
And brought in wanton wishes to her heart,
In the very minute when her virtue nods,
I'll rush upon her in a storm of love,
Beat down her guard of honour all before me,
Surfeit on joys, till even desire grow sick;
Then by long absence liberty regain,
And quite forget the pleasure and the pain. [Exeunt.
