Sir _Charles_. Not with their favours, but with their service; it is unmerciful. I once thought myself a tolerable time-killer; I drank, I play'd, I intrigu'd, and yet I had hours enough for reasonable uses; but he that will list himself a lady's man of mettle now, she'll work him so at cards and dice, she won't afford him time enough to play with her at any thing else, though she herself should have a tolerable good mind to it. Lord _Love._ And so the disorderly lives they lead, incline you to a reform of your own. Sir _Charles_. 'Tis true; for bad examples (if they are but bad enough) give us as useful reflections as good ones do. Lord _Love._ 'Tis pity any thing that's bad, shou'd come from women. Sir _Charles_. 'Tis so, indeed, and there was a happy time, when both you and I thought there never could. Lord _Love._ Our early first conceptions of them, I well remember, were that they never could be vicious, nor never could be old. Sir _Charles_. We thought so then; the beauteous form we saw them cast in, seem'd design'd a habitation for no vice, nor no decay; all I had conceiv'd of angels, I conceiv'd of them; true, tender, gentle, modest, generous, constant, I thought was writ in every feature; and in my devotions, Heaven, how did I adore thee, that blessings like them should be the portion of such poor inferior creatures as I took myself and all men else (compared with them) to be!--but where's that adoration now? Lord _Love._ 'Tis with such fond young fools as you and I were then. Sir _Charles_. And with such it will ever be. Lord _Love._ Ever. The pleasure is so great, in believing women to be what we wish them, that nothing but a long and sharp experience can ever make us think them otherwise. That experience, friend, both you and I have had, but yours has been at other mens expence; mine----at my own. Sir _Charles_. Perhaps you'd wonder, shou'd you find me dispos'd to run the risque of that experience too. Lord _Love._ I shou'd, indeed. Sir _Charles_. And yet 'tis possible I may; I know at least, I still have so much of my early folly left, to think, there's yet one woman fit to make a wife of: How far such a one can answer the charms of a mistress, marry'd men are silent in, so pass----for that I'd take my chance; but cou'd she make a home easy to her partner, by letting him find there a chearful companion, an agreeable intimate, a useful assistant, a faithful friend, and (in its time perhaps) a tender mother, such change of life, from what I lead, seems not unwise to think of. Lord _Love._ Nor unwise to purchase, if to be had for millions, but---- Sir _Charles_. But what? Lord _Love._ If the reverse of this shou'd chance to be the bitter disappointment, what wou'd the life be then? Sir _Charles_. A damn'd one. Lord _Love._ And what relief? Sir _Charles_. A short one; leave it, and return to that you left, if you can't find a better.