_In Phillis all vile Jilts are met, Foolish, uncertain, false, Coquette. Love is her constant welcome Guest, And still the newest pleases best. Quickly she likes, then leaves as soon; Her Life on Woman’s a Lampoon. Yet for the Plague of human Race, This Devil has an Angel’s Face; Such Youth, such Sweetness in her Look, Who can be Man, and not be took? What former Love, what Wit, what Art, Can save a poor inclining Heart? In vain a thousand Times an hour Reason rebels against her Power. In vain I rail, I curse her charms; One Look my feeble Rage disarms. There is Inchantment in her Eyes; Who sees ‘em, can no more be wise_. _Enter_ Wilding, _who runs to embrace L_. Gal. _Wild_. Twelve was the lucky Minute when we met: Most charming of your Sex, and wisest of all Widows, My Life, my Soul, my Heaven to come, and here! Now I have liv’d to purpose, since at last--Oh, killing Joy! Come, let me fold you, press you in my Arms, And kiss you Thanks for this dear happy Night. L. _Gal_. You may spare your Thanks, Sir, for those that will deserve ’.m; I shall give you no occasion for ‘em. _Wild_. Nay, no scruples now, dearest of Dears, no more, ’.is most unseasonable-- I bring a Heart full fraight with eager Hopes, Opprest with a vast Load of longing Love; Let me unlade me in that soft white Bosom, That Storehouse of rich Joys and lasting Pleasures, And lay me down as on a Bed of Lillies. [_She breaks from him_. L. _Gal_. You’re wondrous full of Love and Rapture, Sir; but certainly you mistake the Person you address ‘em to. _Wild_. Why, are you not my Lady _Galliard_, that very Lady _Galliard_, who, if one may take her Word for’t, loves _Wilding_? Am I not come hither by your own Appointment; and can I have any other Business here at this time of night, but Love, and Rapture, and-- L. _Gal_. Scandalous and vain! by my Appointment, and for so leud a purpose; guard me, ye good Angels. If after an Affront so gross as this, I ever suffer you to see me more, Then think me what your Carriage calls me, An impudent, an open Prostitute, Lost to all sense of Virtue, or of Honour. _Wild_. What can this mean? [_Aside_. Oh, now I understand the Mystery. [_Looking on_ Closet. Her Woman’s here, that troublesome piece of Train. --I must remove her. Hark ye, Mrs. Closet, I had forgot to tell you, as I came up I heard a Kinsman of yours very earnest with the Servants below, and in great haste to speak with you. _Clos_. A Kinsman! that’s very likely indeed, and at this time of night. _Wild_. Yes, a very near Kinsman, he said he was your Father’s own Mother’s Uncle’s Sister’s Son; what d’ye call him?