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ledgments to all, and protest it most impossible to know which to chuse.
Ang. And are you not very malicious, to triumph in this manner over the weakness of your own Sex? Besides, what can this exposing the Sisters, profit any thing with the Brother?
Cons. O let me alone to manage it; if I fail in my Ends, I'll be bound to renounce my Petticoats for ever, and never to find anything more substantial in Breeches than what you can give me: for your Plot I don't see how it can fail, for faith I cou'd be in love with you my self, but that I know your Credentials are counterfeit, and 'tis a false Pass which you shew.
Ang. Prithee tell me truly, what manner of a Man do I make?
Cons. A very Spark, upon Honour; and, to all outward appearances, as much a Man as the best. Any thing that's well Periwig'd, and Powder'd, and Steenkirk'd, and Embroider'd, is a Man. Singing and Dancing, and Dress, is Breeding. Noise, Familiarity, and Impertinence, is Wit. Whistling to one's self—as thus—or taking Snuff gravely—as thus—passes for Thought, and serious Consideration: And all this put together, is a Man.
Ang. At least as much as is necessary for us two at this time—But however one is a little Awkard at first—How do I walk?
Cons. Ha, an Air fieré & determinée———
[They strut about the Stage.]
Ang. And then my Legs, Constantia.
Cons. 'Tis true, the Ladies love good Supporters—They'll do, they'll do, 'Sbud fear nothing.
Ang. Why how now Bully, what, thou swear'st too?
Cons. Damm your Winnings and Formalities: "Confound me, Madam, I adore you; Thunder rivet me, I must enjoy you"—How much better this founds than—"Durst I presume, Madam; or might I be permitted"—Zoons how many a modest Fool has lost his Longing, for want of Damming, Sinking, and Confounding handsomly, and like a Gentleman.
Ang. Peace, Madcap—here comes my old bawdy Father, according to appointment.
Enter
