_Lady Brute._ Secrecy, indeed, in Sins of this kind, is an Argument of weight to lessen the Punishment; but nothing's a Plea for a Pardon entire, without a sincere Repentance. _Const._ If Sincerity in Repentance consists in Sorrow for offending, no Cloyster ever inclos'd so true a Penitent as I should be. But I hope it cannot be reckon'd an Offence to love where 'tis a Duty to adore. _Lady Brute._ 'Tis an Offence, a great one, where it would rob a Woman of all she ought to be ador'd for--her Virtue. _Const._ Virtue?--Virtue, alas! is no more like the thing that's call'd so, than 'tis like Vice itself. Virtue consists in Goodness, Honour, Gratitude, Sincerity, and Pity; and not in peevish, snarling, strait-lac'd Chastity. True Virtue, wheresoever it moves, still carries an intrinsick Worth about it, and is in every Place, and in each Sex, of equal Value. So is not Continence, you see: That Phantom of Honour, which Men in every Age have so contemned, they have thrown it amongst the Women to scrabble for. _Lady Brute._ If it be a thing of so little Value, why do you so earnestly recommend it to your Wives and Daughters? _Const._ We recommend it to our Wives, Madam, because we wou'd keep 'em to ourselves; and to our Daughters, because we wou'd dispose of 'em to others. _Lady Brute._ 'Tis then, of some Importance, it seems, since you can't dispose of them without it. _Const._ That Importance, Madam, lies in the Humour of the Country, not in the Nature of the Thing. _Lady Brute._ How do you prove that, Sir? _Const._ From the Wisdom of a neighbouring Nation in a contrary Practice. In Monarchies, things go by Whimsy; but Commonwealths weigh all things in the Scale of Reason. _Lady Brute._ I hope we are not so very light a People, to bring up Fashions without some ground. _Const._ Pray what does your Ladyship think of a powder'd Coat for deep Mourning? _Lady Brute._ I think, Sir, your Sophistry has all the effect that you can reasonably expect it should have; it puzzles, but don't convince. _Const._ I'm sorry for it. _Lady Brute._ I'm sorry to hear you say so. _Const._ Pray why? _Lady Brute._ Because, if you expected more from it, you have a worse Opinion of my Understanding than I desire you should have. _Const._ [_Aside._] I comprehend her: She would have me set a Value upon her Chastity, that I might think myself the more oblig'd to her when she makes me a Present of it. [_To her._] I beg you will believe I did but rally, Madam; I know you judge too well of Right and Wrong, to be deceiv'd by Arguments like those. I hope you'll have so favourable an Opinion of my Understanding too, to believe the thing call'd Virtue has Worth enough with me, to pass for an eternal Obligation where'er 'tis sacrific'd. _Lady Brute._ It is, I think, so great a one as nothing can repay. _Const._ Yes; the making the Man you love your everlasting Debtor.