Mrs. _Lov_. Good Sir _Harry_, what have you seen so loose in my Behaviour
to attack me at this rate?

Sir _Har_. Why, look you, Child, do'st thee consider what an Income two
hundred a Year is; some Country Gentlemen han't more to make their Elder
Sons Esquires, and raise Portions for eleven awkard Daughters. Besides,
my Dear, thou art but a whiffling sort of a Pinnace, I have been proffer'd
lovely, large, First Rate Ladies for half the Mony. There's _Winny
Wag-tail_ in _Channel Row_, wou'd have left it to my Generosity; Mrs.
_Tippet_ the Furrier's Wife in _Walbrook_ wou'd have taken five hundred
Pound down, and _Sufan Sigh-fort_ the quaking Sempstress had n't the
Assurance to ask me above the rent of her Shop.----I must tell you, Love,
the Nation's over stock'd with Women, I can have a hundred and fifty
Furbuloe Scarf-makers for as many Silver Thimbles; and but last Long
Vacation, a very considerable Pleader offer'd me his two Daughters for Six
and Eight Pence a Night.

Mrs. _Lov_. Sir _Harry_, this Discourse suits not my Genius, I have a
Fortune, tho' not thousands enough to keep me from that odious thing you'd
tempt me to; therefore if you pursue this Humour any farther, I must
acquaint my Lady with it.

Sir _Har_. Why, then, Madam, do I most devoutly pray to _Venus_ there, and
each kind Creature here, that the Men may avoid you, as if you had n't a
Lure about you, that for madness you may turn Gam'ster, lose all your
Fortune at Play, and then grow crooked for want of Mony to buy you a new
Pair of Stayes. [_Exit._

Mrs. _Lov_. Was ever any thing so impudent! he's a charming Fellow tho',