nk me so happy as to be the object
of your Jealousy. --A Man is always afraid of a Woman who loves him too
well-- so that I must expect to be neglected and avoided.

_Lucy._ Then our Cases, my dear _Polly_, are exactly alike. Both of us
indeed have been too fond.

AIR XLVIII. O _Bessy Bell_.

[Music]

_Polly._ A Curse attend that Woman's Love,
Who always would be pleasing.

_Lucy._ The Pertness of the billing Dove,
Like Tickling, is but teazing.

_Polly._ What then in Love can Woman do:

_Lucy._ If we grow fond they shun us.

_Polly._ And when we fly them, they pursue:

_Lucy._ But leave us when they've won us.

_Lucy._ Love is so very whimsical in both Sexes, that it is impossible
to be lasting. --But my Heart is particular, and contradicts my own
Observation.

_Polly._ But really, Mistress _Lucy_, by his last Behaviour, I think I
ought to envy you. --When I was forc'd from him, he did not shew the
least Tenderness. --But perhaps, he hath a Heart not capable of it.

AIR XLIX. Would Fate to me _Belinda_ give.

[Music]

Among the Men, Coquettes we find,
Who court by turns all Woman-kind;
And we grant all their Hearts desir'd,
When they are flatter'd, and admir'd.

The Coquettes of both Sexes are Self-lovers, and that is a Love no other
whatever can dispossess. I hear, my dear _Lucy_, our Husband is one of
those.

_Lucy._ Away with these melancholy Reflections,-- indeed, my dear
_Polly_, we are both of us a Cup too low-- Let me prevail upon you to
accept of my Offer.

AIR L. Come, sweet Lass.

[Music]

Come, sweet Lass,
Let's banish Sorrow
'Till To-morrow;
Come, sweet Lass,
Let's take a chirping Glass.
Wine can clear
The Vapours of Despair
And make us light as Air;
Then drink, and banish Care.

I can't bear, Child, to see you in such low Spirits. --And I must
persuade you to what I know will do you good. [Aside.] I shall now soon
be even with the hypocrytical Strumpet. [Exit.

_Polly._ All this Wheedling of _Lucy_ cannot be for nothing. --At this
time too! when I know she hates me! --The Dissembling of a Woman is
always the Forerunner of Mischief. --By pouring Strong-Waters down my
Throat, she thinks to pump some Secrets out of me,-- I'll be upon my
Guard, and won't taste a Drop of her Liquor, I'm resolv'd.

Re-enter _Lucy_, with Strong-Waters.

_Lucy._ Come, Miss _Polly_.

_Polly._ Indeed, Child, you have