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 Aery, didst thou ever speak to Lucinda, that she has ever given such hopes?

Sir J. Aery. Speak to her, Geddemme, No: Was ever any thing so foolish? What signifies speaking? If speaking wou'd do, why none but Men of Sense wou'd be happy; and when the Devil didst thou ever know a Man of Sense well receiv'd by a Woman?

Vaun. That's true, by all the great Geds and the little; for I have observ'd all my life, that my Gilt Coach and Six Horses, and Footmen in Lace-Liveries, have got me more Women, than all my fine Speeches; and, Beged, I know what to say too as well as another.

Sir J. Aery. Geddemme, Paux there is more Rhetorick in a Tune on the Flute passionately play'd, or a Song languishingly humour'd, than in all Cicero. And tho' I can speak Sense as well as another, yet, Demme, I'm too well bred to offend the Ladies—But prithee, dear Vaunter, tell me how thou hast made the Town believe thou hast had Lucinda; for, Beged, that's a pretty sort of Vanity that I shou'd be exceeding fond of.

Vaun. Why, Beged, no otherwise than thus: At Church, I always sit in the same Pew; at the Play, in the same Box; at the Musick-meeting, I contrive to be the next Man to her, and never fail to lead her out upon all these occasions. In the Park, I turn as she turns; I go out, when she goes out; I drive by her Coach, then stop, and go softly, till she goes by again; then I gallop, Beged, till I overtake her once more; and so twenty times together, ogling like a Devil, till I see where she alights, there I alight too; and, Beged, she never makes a Visit, but I am up Stairs as soon as she. The World takes notice of these Assiduities, and being always glad of any opportunity to defame, my happiness is everywhere publisht; my Friends give me joy of my success, which I receive with an O Gad, why shou'd you think so? What can a Woman see in me?This Town is a strange place, that a man can do nothing in secret, Geddemme, I can't imagin how this came to be found out; for, beged, I took all the care in the World to be discreet, but these foolish Women always betray themselves—And so, Geddemme, half avowing, and half denying, I palm my self upon a Woman Sir J. Aery.