_Y. Mir._ Now the game begins, and my fool is entered.--But here comes one to spoil my sport; now shall I be teased to death, with this old-fashioned contract! I should love her too, if I might do it my own way, but she'll do nothing without witnesses, forsooth! I wonder women can be so immodest! _Enter_ ORIANA. Well, madam, why d'ye follow me? _Oriana._ Well, sir, why do you shun me? _Y. Mir._ 'Tis my humour, madam, and I'm naturally swayed by inclination. _Oriana._ Have you forgot our contract, sir? _Y. Mir._ All I remember of that contract is, that it was made some three years ago, and that's enough, in conscience, to forget the rest on't. _Oriana._ 'Tis sufficient, sir, to recollect the passing of it; for, in that circumstance, I presume, lies the force of the obligation. _Y. Mir._ Obligations, madam, that are forced upon the will, are no tie upon the conscience; I was a slave to my passion, when I passed the instrument, but the recovery of my freedom makes the contract void. _Oriana._ Come, Mr. Mirabel, these expressions I expected from the raillery of your humour, but I hope for very different sentiments from your honour and generosity. _Y. Mir._ Lookye, madam, as for my generosity, 'tis at your service, with all my heart: I'll keep you a coach and six horses, if you please, only permit me to keep my honour to myself. Consider, madam, you have no such thing among ye, and 'tis a main point of policy to keep no faith with reprobates--thou art a pretty little reprobate, and so get thee about thy business! _Oriana._ Well, sir, even all this I will allow to the gaiety of your temper; your travels have improved your talent of talking, but they are not of force, I hope, to impair your morals. _Y. Mir._ Morals! why, there 'tis again now!--I tell thee, child, there is not the least occasion for morals, in any business between you and I. Don't you know that, of all commerce in the world, there is no such cozenage and deceit, as in the traffic between man and woman? we study all our lives long, how to put tricks upon one another.--No fowler lays abroad more nets for his game, nor a hunter for his prey, than you do, to catch poor innocent men.--Why do you sit three or four hours at your toilet in a morning? only with a villanous design to make some poor fellow a fool before night. What d'ye sigh for?--What d'ye weep for?--What d'ye pray for? Why, for a husband: That is, you implore Providence to assist you, in the just, and pious design, of making the wisest of his creatures a fool, and the head of the creation, a slave. _Oriana._ Sir, I am proud of my power, and am resolved to use it.