_Dor._ Nay, I know y' are willing enough to get together; but y' are a couple of helpless Things, Heaven knows. _Euph._ Our Stars, thou see'st, are bent to Opposition. _Dor._ Stars!--I'd fain see the Stars hinder me from running away with a Man I lik'd. _Euph._ Ay, but thou know'st, should I disoblige my Father, he'd give my Portion to my younger Sister. _Dor._ Ay, there the Shoe pinches, there's the Love of the Age! Ah!----to what an Ebb of Passion are Lovers sunk in these Days! Give me a Woman that runs away with a Man, when his whole Estate's pack'd up in his Knap-sack: That tucks up her Coats to her Knees; and thro' thick and thro' thin, from Quarters to Camp, trudges heartily on; with a Child at her Back, another in her Arms, and a Brace in her Belly: There's Flame with a Witness, where this is the Effects on't. But we must have Love in a Feather-bed: Forsooth, a Coach and six Horses, clean Linen, and Cawdle! Fie for shame. O ho! here comes our Man. Now shew yourself a Woman, if you are one. _Enter ~Esop~._ _Esop._ I'm told, fair Virgin, you desire to speak with me. Lovers are apt to flatter themselves; I take your Message for a Favour. I hope 'twas meant so. _Euph._ Favours from Women are so cheap of late, Men may expect 'em truly, without Vanity. _Esop._ If the Women are so liberal, I think the Men are generous too, on their Side: 'Tis a well-bred Age; thank Heaven; and a deal of Civility there passes between the two Sexes. What Service is't that I can do you, Lady? _Euph._ Sir, I have a small Favour to intreat you. _Esop._ What is't? I don't believe I shall refuse you. _Euph._ What if you shou'd promise me you won't? _Esop._ Why then I shou'd make a Divorce between my Good-breeding and my Sense, which ought to be as sacred a Knot as that of Wedlock. _Euph._ Dare you not trust then, Sir, the Thing you love? _Esop._ Not when the Thing I love don't love me: Never. _Dor._ Trust is sometimes the Way to be belov'd. _Esop._ Ay, but 'tis oftener the way to be cheated. _Euph._ Pray promise me you'll grant my Suit. _Dor._ 'Tis a reasonable one, I'll give you my word for't. _Esop._ If it be so, I do promise to grant it. _Dor._ That's still leaving yourself Judge. _Esop._ Why, who's more concern'd in the Trial? _Dor._ But no Body ought to be Judge in their own Cause. _Esop._ Yet he that is so, is sure to have no wrong done him. _Dor._ But if he does wrong to others, that's worse. _Esop._ Worse for them, but not for him. _Dor._ True Politician, by my troth! _Esop._ Men must be so, when they have to do with Sharpers. _Euph._ If I shou'd tell you then there were a Possibility I might be brought to love you, you'd scarce believe me. _Esop._ I shou'd hope as a Lover, and suspect as a Statesman. _Dor._ [_Aside._] Love and Wisdom! There's the Passion of the Age again. _Euph._ You have liv'd long, Sir, and observ'd much: Did you never see Time produce strange Changes?