Hor. Don't you think this must be a great Mortification to young
Women?

Cleo. Yes, a forc'd one; but there is no voluntary Self-denial, which
was the Thing you spoke of. The Mortifitation which they feel is like
that of Vagabonds in a Work-House: There is no Virtue in the
Confinement of either. Both are dissatisfied, without Doubt, but it is
because they are not employ'd to their Liking; and what they grieve
at, is, that they can't help themselves. But there are Thousands of
vain Women, whom no Thoughts of Futurity ever made any Impression
upon, that lead single Lives by Choice, and are at the same Time
careful of their Honour to the greatest Nicety, in the Midst of
Temptations, gay sprightly Women, of amorous Complexions, that can
deny a passionate, deserving Lover, whose Person they approve of and
admire, when they are alone with him in the dark; and all this from no
better Principle than the Fear of Shame, which has its Foundation in
Self-liking, and is so manifesty derived from that and no other
Passion. You and I are acquainted with Women, that have refused
Honourable Matches with the Men they loved, and with whom they might
have been Happy, if they themselves had been less intoxicated with
Vanity.

Hor. But when a Woman can marry, and be maintain'd suitably to her
Quality, and she refuses a Man upon no other Score, than that his
Fortune, or his Estate, are not equal to her unreasonable Desires, the
Passion she acts from is Covetousness.

Cleo. Would you call a Woman covetous, who visibly takes Delight in
Lavishness, and never shew'd any Value for Money when She had it: One