Women enjoyed, are like romances read, or shows, once seen, mere tricks of the sleight of hand, which, when found out, you only wonder at yourselves for wondering so before at them. 'Tis expectation endears the blessing; Heaven would not be Heaven, could we tell what 'tis. When the plot's out you have done with the play, and when the last act's done, you see the curtain drawn with great indifferency.