_Heart._ 'Tis much she don't tell him you have made Love to her too; for that's another good-natur'd thing usual amongst Women, in which they have several Ends. Sometimes 'tis to recommend their Virtue, that they may be lewd with the greater Security. Sometimes 'tis to make their Husbands fight, in hopes they may be kill'd, when their Affairs require it should be so: but most commonly 'tis to engage two Men in a Quarrel, that they may have the Credit of being fought for; and if the Lover's kill'd in the Business, they cry, _Poor Fellow, he had ill Luck_----and so they go to Cards. _Const._ Thy Injuries to Women are not to be forgiven. Look to't, if ever thou dost fall into their Hands---- _Heart._ They can't use me worse than they do you, that speak well of 'em. O ho! here comes the Knight. _Enter Sir ~John Brute~._ _Heart._ Your humble Servant, Sir _John_. _Sir John._ Servant, Sir. _Heart._ How does all your Family? _Sir John._ Pox o' my Family! _Const._ How does your Lady? I han't seen her abroad a good while. _Sir John._ Do! I don't know how she does, not I; she was well enough Yesterday; I han't been at home to-night. _Const._ What, were you out of Town? _Sir John._ Out of Town! No, I was drinking. _Const._ You are a true _Englishman_; don't know your own Happiness. If I were married to such a Woman, I would not be from her a Night for all the Wine in _France_. _Sir John._ Not from her!----'Oons----what a time should a Man have of that! _Heart._ Why, there's no Division, I hope. _Sir John._ No; but there's a Conjunction, and that's worse; a Pox of the Parson----Why the plague don't you two marry? I fancy I look like the Devil to you. _Heart._ Why, you don't think you have Horns, do you? _Sir John._ No, I believe my Wife's Religion will keep her honest. _Heart._ And what will make her keep her Religion? _Sir John._ Persecution; and therefore she shall have it. _Heart._ Have a care, Knight! Women are tender things. _Sir John._ And yet, methinks, 'tis a hard Matter to break their Hearts. _Const._ Fy, fy! You have one of the best Wives in the World, and yet you seem the most uneasy Husband. _Sir John._ Best Wives! The Woman's well enough; she has no Vice that I know of, but she's a Wife, and--damn a Wife! If I were married to a Hogshead of Claret, Matrimony would make me hate it. _Heart._ Why did you marry, then? You were old enough to know your own Mind. _Sir John._ Why did I marry? I married because I had a mind to lie with her, and she would not let me. _Heart._ Why did you not ravish her? _Sir John._ Yes, and so have hedg'd myself into forty Quarrels with her Relations, besides buying my pardon: But more than all that, you must know, I was afraid of being damn'd in those days: For I kept sneaking, cowardly Company, Fellows that went to Church, said Grace to their Meat, and had not the least Tincture of Quality about them. _Heart._ But I think you are got into a better Gang now?