LUCY. Love is so very whimsical in both Sexes, that it is
impossible to be
lasting.—But my Heart is particular, and contradicts my own Observation.
POLLY. But really, Mistress Lucy, by his last Behaviour, I
think I ought
to envy you.—When I was forc'd from him, he did not shew the least
Tenderness.—But perhaps, he hath a Heart not capable of it.
Air L.—Would Fate to me Belinda give.
Among the Men, Coquets we find,
Who court by turns all Woman-kind;
And we grant all the Hearts desir'd,
When they are flatter'd, and admir'd.
The Coquets of both Sexes are Self-lovers, and that is a Love no other
whatever can dispossess. I hear, my dear Lucy, our Husband is one of those.
LUCY. Away with these melancholy Reflections,—indeed,
my
dear Polly, we
are both of us a Cup too low—Let me prevail upon you to accept of my
Offer.
Air LI.—Come, sweet Lass.
Come, sweet Lass,
Let's banish Sorrow
'Till To-morrow;
Come, sweet Lass,
Let's take a chirping Glass.
Wine can clear
The Vapours of Despair
And make us light as Air;
Then drink, and banish Care.
I can't bear, Child, to see you in such low Spirits.—And I must persuade
you to what I know will do you good.—I shall now soon be even with the
hypocritical Strumpet.
[Aside.
