_Glum_. Your sweetheart? Dost thou think the man who once
Hath worn my easy chains will e'er wear thine?

_Hunc_. Well may your chains be easy, since, if fame
Says true, they have been tried on twenty husbands.
[1]The glove or boot, so many times pull'd on,
May well sit easy on the hand or foot.

[Footnote 1: "A cobling poet indeed," says Mr D.; and yet I believe we
may find as monstrous images in the tragick authors: I'll put down
one:

Untie your folded thoughts, and let them dangle loose as a
bride's hair.--_Injured Love_.

Which line seems to have as much title to a milliner's shop as our
author's to a shoemaker's.]

_Glum_. I glory in the number, and when I
Sit poorly down, like thee, content with one,
Heaven change this face for one as bad as thine.

_Hunc_. Let me see nearer what this beauty is
That captivates the heart of men by scores.
[_Holds a candle to her face_.
Oh! Heaven, thou art as ugly as the devil.

_Glum_. You'd give the best of shoes within your shop
To be but half so handsome.