_Const._ Why, 'faith, we are a little impudent in that matter, that's the truth on't. But this is wonderful, to see you grown so warm an Advocate for those whom (but t'other Day) you took so much Pains to abuse. _Heart._ All Revolutions run into Extremes; the Bigot makes the boldest Atheist; and the coyest Saint, the most extravagant Strumpet. But, pr'ythee, advise me in this Good and Evil, this Life and Death, this Blessing and Cursing, that's set before me. Shall I marry, or die a Maid? _Const._ Why, 'faith, _Heartfree_, Matrimony is like an Army going to engage. Love's the forlorn Hope, which is soon cut off; the Marriage-Knot is the main Body, which may stand buff a long, long time; and Repentance is the Rear-Guard, which rarely gives ground as long as the main Body has a Being. _Heart._ Conclusion, then; you advise me to whore on, as you do. _Const._ That's not concluded yet. For tho' Marriage be a Lottery, in which there are a wondrous many Blanks; yet there is one inestimable Lot, in which the only Heaven on Earth is written. Wou'd your kind Fate but guide your Hand to that, tho' I were wrapt in all that Luxury itself could clothe me with, I still shou'd envy you. _Heart._ And justly, too; for to be capable of loving one, doubtless, is better than to possess a thousand. But how far that Capacity's in me, alas! I know not. _Const._ But you wou'd know. _Heart._ I wou'd so. _Const._ Matrimony will inform you. Come, one Flight of Resolution carries you to the Land of Experience; where, in a very moderate time, you'll know the Capacity of your Soul and your Body both, or I'm mistaken. [_Exeunt._ +SCENE+, _Sir ~John Brute~'s House_. _Enter Lady ~Brute~ and ~Belinda~._ _Bel._ Well, Madam, what Answer have you from 'em? _Lady Brute._ That they'll be here this Moment. I fancy 'twill end in a Wedding: I'm sure he's a Fool if it don't. Ten thousand Pounds, and such a Lass as you are, is no contemptible Offer to a younger Brother. But are not you under strange Agitations? Pr'ythee, how does your Pulse beat? _Bel._ High and low, I have much ado to be valiant: sure it must feel very strange to go to Bed to a Man? _Lady Brute._ Um----it does feel a little odd at first; but it will soon grow easy to you. _Enter ~Constant~ and ~Heartfree~._ _Lady Brute._ Good-morrow, Gentlemen: How have you slept after your Adventure? _Heart._ Some careful Thoughts, Ladies, on your accounts, have kept us waking. _Bel._ And some careful Thoughts on your own, I believe, have hindered you from sleeping. Pray how does this matrimonial Project relish with you? _Heart._ Why, 'faith, e'en as storming Towns does with Soldiers, where the Hope of delicious Plunder banishes the Fear of being knock'd on the Head. _Bel._ Is it then possible, after all, that you dare think of downright lawful Wedlock?