VAIN. 'Tis an untimely fruit, and she has miscarried of her love.
SHARP. Never leave this damned ill-natured whimsey, Frank? Thou
hast a sickly, peevish appetite; only chew love and cannot digest
it.
VAIN. Yes, when I feed myself. But I hate to be crammed. By
heaven, there's not a woman will give a man the pleasure of a
chase: my sport is always balked or cut short. I stumble over the
game I would pursue. 'Tis dull and unnatural to have a hare run
full in the hounds' mouth, and would distaste the keenest hunter.
I would have overtaken, not have met, my game.
SHARP. However, I hope you don't mean to forsake it; that will be
but a kind of mongrel cur's trick. Well, are you for the Mall?
VAIN. No; she will be there this evening. Yes, I will go too, and
she shall see her error in -
SHARP. In her choice, I-gad. But thou canst not be so great a
brute as to slight her.
VAIN. I should disappoint her if I did not. By her management I
should think she expects it.
All naturally fly what does pursue:
'Tis fit men should be coy when women woo.
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