_Bra._ Perhaps, Madam, my Lady never had an Offer worth her serious Notice, the Fops a course chatter and teaze the Women, but when great Statesmen condescend to Love, and while they Court, Affairs of State stand still; a Lady shou'd be proud of such an Offer; what Woman wou'd not think her self most highly honour'd to have an amorous Judge approach her with his Tipstaff. Mrs. _Lov._ Ay, Major, to have the State stand still, as if a Woman were of mightier Moment wou'd sooth a Lady's Pride, 'twou'd be so pretty to adjourn the Parliament when their Mistresses send for 'em to Picquet; and were my Lady sensible how vast an Honour you design her, she certainly wou'd own an equal Passion. _Bra._ [_Aside_] I profess a very ingenious Woman, and cou'd I but be satisfy'd, she were entirely in the French Int'rest, I I wou'd prefer her to Madam _Maintenon's_ Cabinet Council, to consult about the next Invasion. _Enter_ Nicknack. _Nic._ Oh! Mrs. _Lovejoy_, I have been hurry'd quite out of my Senses, three more Ships are sail'd in upon me this Morning; the _Atlas_ Merchant Man, Captain _Sunburnt_ Commander from the _East Indies_, the _Dighton_ Gally from the musty Islands, and the _Hankerchief_ Frigot from _Smirna_. Mrs. _Lov._ Pray, Mr. _Nicknack_, when's the Sale? _Nic._ Now, now, Madam, and the fat India Women from all Parts o'the Town do croud and scold like a Parcel of Fish-Wives at a Mackrel-Boat--Mrs. _Trapes_ in _Leadenhall_ Street is hawling away the Umbrellas for the walking Gentry, Mrs. _Kanister_ in _Hatton Garden_, buys up all the course Bohee-Tea for the _Holborn_ Ladies Breakfasts, and Mrs. _Furnish_ at St. _James_'s has order'd Lots of Fans, and China, and India Pictures to be set by for her, 'till she can borrow Mony to pay for 'em.----But, Madam, I ha' brought you a couple of the prettiest Parrokeets, and the charming'st Monkey for my Lady that ever was seen; a Coster-monger's Wife kiss'd it, burst into Tears, and said, 'Twas so like an only Child she had just bury'd. I thought the poor Woman wou'd ha' swoon'd away. Mrs. _Lov_. Thank you good Mr. _Nicknack_. _Nick_. But, Madam, have you told my Lady, what a violent Inflammation I have about her? Mrs. _Lov_. She's now at Cards with the _Collonel_, and next to the new Monkey you'll be the welcom'st Creature alive to her.--Sweet Major excuse me, for I must run to my dear Parrokeets. [_Exit._ _Bra_. Prithee, Friend, what Beau-maggot has thy Pericranium lately bred to give thee pretensions to Lady _Rodomont_? _Nick_. And pray, _Major_; what prejudice have the Ladies done you, that you shou'd revenge it by offering 'em your disagreeable self? For he that murmus at so good a Queen, must certainly be disaffected to the whole Sex.