_Dor._ Nay, I know this makes you tremble; and yet your tender Conscience scruples to drop one hypocritical Curtsy, and say, Pray, Mr. _Esop_, be so kind to defer it a few Days longer. _Euph._ Thou know'st I cannot dissemble. _Dor._ I know you can dissemble well enough, when you shou'd not do't. Do you remember how you us'd to plague your poor _Oronces_; make him believe you loath'd him, when you cou'd have kiss'd the Ground he went on; affront him in all publick Places; ridicule him in all Company; abuse him wherever you went And when you had reduc'd him within an Ace of hanging or drowning, then come home with Tears in your Eyes, and cry, Now, _Doris_, let's go lock ourselves up, and talk of my dear _Oronces_: Is not this true? _Euph._ Yes, yes, yes. But, pr'ythee, have some Compassion of me. Come, I'll do any thing thou bid'st me----What shall I say to this Monster? Tell me, and I'll obey thee. _Dor._ Nay, then there's some hopes of you. Why, you must tell him----'Tis natural to you to dislike Folks at first sight: That since you have consider'd him better, you find your Aversion abated: That tho' perhaps it may be a hard Matter for you ever to think him a Beau, you don't despair, in Time, of finding out his _Je-ne-sçai-quoy_. And that on t'other side, tho' you have hitherto thought (as most young Women do) that nothing cou'd remove your first Affection, yet you have very great Hopes in the natural Inconstancy of your Sex. Tell him, 'tis not impossible, a Change may happen, provided he gives you Time: But that if he goes to force you, there's another Piece of Nature peculiar to Women, which may chance to spoil all, and that's Contradiction. Ring that Argument well in his Ears: He's a Philosopher; he knows it has Weight in it. In short, wheedle, whine, flatter, lye, weep, spare nothing; 'tis a moist Age, Women have Tears enow; and when you have melted him down, and gain'd more Time, we'll employ it in Closet-debates, how to cheat him to the end of the Chapter. _Euph._ But you don't consider, _Doris_, that by this Means I engage myself to him; and can't afterwards with Honour retreat. _Dor._ Madam, I know the World--Honour's a Jest, when Jilting's useful. Besides, he that wou'd have you break your Oath with _Oronces_, can never have the Impudence to blame you, for cracking your Word with himself. But who knows what may happen between the Cup and the Lip? Let either of the old Gentlemen die, and we ride triumphant. Wou'd I could but see the Statesman sick a little, I'd recommend a Doctor to him, a Cousin of mine, a Man of Conscience, a wise Physician; tip but the Wink, he understands you. _Euph._ Thou wicked Wench, wou'd'st poison him? _Dor._ I don't know what I wou'd do; I think, I study, I invent, and somehow I will get rid of him. I do more for you, I'm sure, than you and your Knight-Errant do together for yourselves. _Euph._ Alas, both he and I do all we can; thou know'st we do.