_Bel._ 'Tis well _Constant_ don't know the Weakness of the Fortification; for o' my Conscience he'd soon come on to the Assault. _Lady Brute._ Ay, and I'm afraid carry the Town too. But whatever you may have observ'd, I have dissembled so well as to keep him ignorant. So you see I'm no Coquette, _Belinda_: And if you follow my Advice, you'll never be one neither. 'Tis true, Coquetry is one of the main Ingredients in the natural Composition of a Woman; and I, as well as others, cou'd be well enough pleas'd to see a Crowd of young Fellows ogling, and glancing, and watching all Occasions to do forty foolish officious Things: Nay, shou'd some of 'em push on, even to hanging or drowning, why--'faith--if I shou'd let pure Woman alone, I shou'd e'en be but too well pleas'd with it. _Bel._ I'll swear 'twould tickle me strangely. _Lady Brute._ But after all, 'tis a vicious Practice in us, to give the least Encouragement but where we design to come to a Conclusion. For 'tis an unreasonable thing to engage a Man in a Disease, which we beforehand resolve we never will apply a Cure to. _Bel._ 'Tis true; but then a Woman must abandon one of the supreme Blessings of her Life. For I am fully convinc'd, no Man has half that Pleasure in possessing a Mistress, as a Woman has in jilting a Gallant. _Lady Brute._ The happiest Woman then on Earth must be our Neighbour. _Bel._ O the impertinent Composition! She has Vanity and Affectation enough to make her a ridiculous Original, in spite of all that Art and Nature ever furnish'd to any of her Sex before her. _Lady Brute._ She concludes all Men her Captives; and whatever Course they take, it serves to confirm her in that Opinion. _Bel._ If they shun her, she thinks 'tis Modesty, and takes it for a Proof of their Passion. _Lady Brute._ And if they are rude to her, 'tis Conduct, and done to prevent Town-talk. _Bel._ When her Folly makes 'em laugh; she thinks they are pleased with her Wit. _Lady Brute._ And when her Impertinence makes 'em dull, concludes they are jealous of her Favours. _Bel._ All their Actions and their Words, she takes for granted, aim at her. _Lady Brute._ And pities all other Women, because she thinks they envy her. _Bel._ Pray, out of pity to ourselves, let us find a better Subject; for I'm weary of this. Do you think your Husband inclined to Jealousy? _Lady Brute._ O, no; he does not love me well enough for that. Lord, how wrong Men's Maxims are! They are seldom jealous of their Wives, unless they are very fond of 'em; whereas they ought to consider the Women's Inclinations; for there depends their Fate. Well, Men may talk; But they are not so wise as we----that's certain. _Bel._ At least in our Affairs. _Lady Brute._ Nay, I believe we shou'd out-do 'em in the Business of the State too: For, methinks, they do and undo, and make but bad Work on't. _Bel._ Why then don't we get into the Intrigues of Government as well as they?