_Const._ That she's Mistress of your Tongue, that's plain; and I know you are so honest a Fellow, your Tongue and Heart always go together. But how, but how the Devil? Pha, ha, ha, ha-- _Heart._ Hey-dey! Why, sure you don't believe it in earnest? _Const._ Yes, I do, because I see you deny it in jest. _Heart._ Nay, but look you, _Ned_--a----deny in jest----a----gadzooks, you know I say----a----when a Man denies a thing in jest--a-- _Const._ Pha, ha, ha, ha, ha. _Heart._ Nay, then we shall have it: What, because a Man stumbles at a Word: did you never make a Blunder? _Const._ Yes; for I am in Love, I own it. _Heart._ Then, so am I--Now laugh till thy Soul's glutted with Mirth. [_Embracing him._] But, dear _Constant_, don't tell the Town on't. _Const._ Nay, then, 'twere almost pity to laugh at thee, after so honest a Confession. But tell us a little, _Jack_, by what new-invented Arms has this mighty Stroke been given? _Heart._ E'en by that unaccountable Weapon call'd _Je-ne-sçai-quoy_: For every thing that can come within the Verge of Beauty, I have seen it with indifference. _Const._ So in few Words, then, the _Je-ne-sçai-quoy_ has been too hard for the quilted Petticoat. _Heart._ I'gad, I think the _Je-ne-sçai-quoy_ is in the quilted Petticoat; at least 'tis certain, I ne'er think on't without----a----a _Je-ne-sçai-quoy_ in every Part about me. _Const._ Well, but have all your Remedies lost their Virtue? Have you turn'd her inside out yet? _Heart._ I dare not so much as think on't. _Const._ But don't the two Years Fatigue I have had discourage you? _Heart._ Yes: I dread what I foresee; yet cannot quit the Enterprize. Like some Soldiers, whose Courage dwells more in their Honour, than their Nature--on they go, tho' the Body trembles at what the Soul makes it undertake. _Const._ Nay, if you expect your Mistress will use you as your Profanations against her Sex deserve, you tremble justly. But how do you intend to proceed, Friend? _Heart._ Thou know'st I'm but a Novice; be friendly, and advise me. _Const._ Why, look you, then: I'd have you--Serenade and a----write a Song----Go to Church; Look like a Fool----Be very officious; Ogle, write and lead out: And who knows but in a Year or two's time you may be----call'd a troublesome Puppy, and sent about your Business. _Heart._ That's hard. _Const._ Yet thus it oft falls out with Lovers, Sir. _Heart._ Pox on me for making one of the Number! _Const._ Have a care: Say no saucy things; 'twill but augment your Crime; and if your Mistress hears on't, increase your Punishment. _Heart._ Pr'ythee say something, then, to encourage me; you know I help'd you in your Distress.