_Bri._ And grow rich in your imagination; heyday, heyday! _Georgicks_,
_Bucolicks_, and Bees! art mad?
_Char._ No, Sir, the knowledge of these guards me from it.
_Bri._ But can you find among your bundle of Books (and put in all your
Dictionaries that speak all Tongues) what pleasure they enjoy, that do
embrace a well-shap'd wealthy Bride? Answer me that.
_Char._ 'Tis frequent, Sir, in Story, there I read of all kind of virtuous
and vitious women; the antient Spartan Dames, and Roman Ladies, their
Beauties and Deformities; and when I light upon a _Portia_ or _Cornelia_,
crown'd with still flourishing leaves of truth and goodness; with such a
feeling I peruse their Fortunes, as if I then had liv'd, and freely tasted
their ravishing sweetness; at the present loving the whole Sex for their
goodness and example. But on the contrary, when I look on a
_Clytemnestra_, or a _Tullia_; the first bath'd in her Husband[s] bloud;
the latter, without a touch of piety, driving on her Chariot o'er her
Father's breathless Trunk, horrour invades my faculties; and comparing the
multitudes o'th' guilty, with the few that did die Innocents, I detest and
loath 'em as Ignorance or Atheism.
_Bri_. You resolve then ne'er to make payment of the debt you owe me.
_Char._ What debt, good Sir?
_Bri_. A debt I paid my Father when I begat thee, and made him a
Grandsire, which I expect. from you.
_Char_. The Children, Sir, which I will leave to all posterity, begot and
brought up by my painful Studies, shall be my living Issue.
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