the chairs to you.--Mr. Horner, your servant; I should be glad to see
you at my house. Pray come and dine with me, and play at cards with
my wife after dinner; you are fit for women at that game yet, ha!
ha!--[_Aside._] 'Tis as much a husband's prudence to provide innocent
diversion for a wife as to hinder her unlawful pleasures; and he had
better employ her than let her employ herself.--[_Aloud._] Farewell.
_Horn._ Your servant, Sir Jasper. [_Exit_ Sir JASPER.
_Lady Fid._ I will not stay with him, foh!--
_Horn._ Nay, madam, I beseech you stay, if it be but to see I can be as
civil to ladies yet as they would desire.
_Lady Fid._ No, no, foh! you cannot be civil to ladies.
_Mrs. Dain._ You as civil as ladies would desire?
_Lady Fid._ No, no, no, foh! foh! foh! [_Exeunt_ Lady FIDGET _and_ Mrs.
DAINTY FIDGET.
_Quack._ Now, I think, I, or you yourself, rather, have done your
business with the women.
_Horn._ Thou art an ass. Don't you see already, upon the report, and my
carriage, this grave man of business leaves his wife in my lodgings,
invites me to his house and wife, who before would not be acquainted
with me out of jealousy?
_Quack._ Nay, by this means you may be the more acquainted with the
husbands, but the less with the wives.
_Horn._ Let me alone; if I can but abuse the husbands, I'll soon
disabuse the wives. Stay--I'll reckon you up the advantages I am
like to have by my stratagem. First, I shall be rid of all my old
acquaintances, the most insatiable sort of duns, that invade our
lodgings in a morning; and next to the pleasure of making a new
mistress is that of being rid of an old one, and of all old debts.
Love, when it comes to be so, is paid the most unwillingly.
_Quack._ Well, you may be so rid of your old acquaintances; but how
will you get any new ones?
_Horn._ Doctor, thou wilt never make a good chemist, thou art so
incredulous and impatient. Ask but all the young fellows of the town if
they do not lose more time, like huntsmen, in starting the game, than
in running it down. One knows not where to find 'em; who will or will
not. Women of quality are so civil, you can hardly distinguish love
from good breeding, and a man is often mistaken: but now I can be sure
she that shows an aversion to me loves the sport, as those women that
are gone, whom I warrant to be right. And then the next thing is, your
women of honour, as you call 'em, are only chary of their reputations,
not their persons; and 'tis scandal they would avoid, not men. Now
may I have, by the reputation of an eunuch, the privileges of one,
and be seen in a lady's chamber in a morning as early as her husband;
kiss virgins before their parents or lovers; and may be, in short, the
_passe-partout_ of the town. Now, doctor.
_Quack._ Nay, now you shall be the doctor; and your process is so new
that we do not know but it may succeed.
_Horn._ Not so new neither; _probatum est_, doctor.
_Quack._ Well, I wish you luck, and many patients, whilst I go to mine.
[_Exit._
_Enter_ HARCOURT _and_ DORILANT.
_Har._ Come, your appearance at the play yesterday, has, I hope,
hardened you for the future against the women's contempt, and the
men's raillery; and now you'll abroad as you were wont.
_Horn._ Did I not bear it bravely?
_Dor._ With a most theatrical impudence, nay, more than the
orange-wenches show there, or a drunken vizard-mask, or a great-bellied
actress; nay, or the most impudent of creatures, an ill poet; or what
is yet more impudent, a second-hand critic.
_Horn._ But what say the ladies? have they no pity?
_Har._ What ladies? The vizard-masks, you know, never pity a man when
all's gone, though in their service.
_Dor._ And for the women in the boxes, you'd never pity them when 'twas
in your power.
_Har._ They say 'tis pity but all that deal with common women should be
served so.
_Dor._ Nay, I dare swear they won't admit you to play at cards with
them, go to plays with 'em, or do the little duties which other shadows
of men are wont to do for 'em.
_Horn._ What do you call shadows of men?
_Dor._ Half-men.
_Horn._ What, boys?
_Dor._ Ay, your old boys, old _beaux garçons_, who, like superannuated
stallions, are suffered to run, feed, and whinny with the mares as long
as they live, though they can do nothing else.
_Horn._ Well, a pox on love and wenching! Women serve but to keep a
man from better company. Though I can't enjoy them, I shall you the
more. Good fellowship and friendship are lasting, rational, and manly
pleasures.
_Har._ For all that, give me some of those pleasures you call
effeminate too; they help to relish one another.
_Horn._ They disturb one another.
_Har._ No, mistresses are like books. If you pore upon them too much,
they doze you, and make you unfit for company; but if used discreetly,
you are the fitter for conversation by 'em.
_Dor._ A mistress should be like a little country retreat near the
town; not to dwell in constantly, but only for a night and away, to
taste the town the better when a man returns.
_Horn._ I tell you, 'tis as hard to be a good fellow, a good friend,
and a lover of women, as 'tis to be a good fellow, a good friend, and
a lover of money. You cannot follow both, then choose your side. Wine
gives you liberty, love takes it away.
_Dor._ Gad, he's in the right on't.
_Horn._ Wine gives you joy; love, grief and tortures, besides surgeons.
Wine makes us witty; love, only sots. Wine makes us sleep; love breaks
it.
_Dor._ By the world he has reason, Harcourt.
_Horn._ Wine makes--
_Dor._ Ay, wine makes us--makes us princes; love makes us beggars, poor
rogues, egad--and wine--
_Horn._ So, there's one converted.--No, no, love and wine, oil and
vinegar.
_Har._ I grant it; love will still be uppermost.
_Horn._ Come, for my part, I will have only those glorious manly
pleasures of being very drunk and very slovenly.
_Enter_ Boy.
_Boy._ Mr. Sparkish is below, sir. [_Exit._
_Har._ What, my dear friend! a rogue that is fond of me only, I think,
for abusing him.
_Dor._ No, he can no more think the men laugh at him than that women
jilt him; his opinion of himself is so good.
_Horn._ Well, there's another pleasure by drinking I thought not of,--I
shall lose his acquaintance, because he cannot drink: and you know 'tis
a very hard thing to be rid of him; for he's one of those nauseous
offerers at wit, who, like the worst fiddlers, run themselves into all
companies.
_Har._ One that, by being in the company of men of sense, would pass
for one.
_Horn._ And may so to the short-sighted world; as a false jewel amongst
true ones is not discerned at a distance. His company is as troublesome
to us as a cuckold's when you have a mind to his wife's.
_Har._ No, the rogue will not let us enjoy one another, but ravishes
our conversation; though he signifies no more to't than Sir Martin
Mar-all's[72] gaping, and awkward thrumming upon the lute, does to his
man's voice and music.
_Dor._ And to pass for a wit in town shows himself a fool every night
to us, that are guilty of the plot.
_Horn._ Such wits as he are, to a company of reasonable men, like rooks
to the gamesters; who only fill a room at the table, but are so far
from contributing to the play, that they only serve to spoil the fancy
of those that do.
_Dor._ Nay, they are used like rooks too, snubbed, checked, and abused;
yet the rogues will hang on.
_Horn._ A pox on 'em, and all that force nature, and would be still
what she forbids 'em! Affectation is her greatest monster.
_Har._ Most men are the contraries to that they would seem. Your bully,
you see, is a coward with a long sword; the little humbly-fawning
physician, with his ebony cane, is he that destroys men.
_Dor._ The usurer, a poor rogue, possessed of mouldy bonds and
mortgages; and we they call spendthrifts, are only wealthy, who lay out
his money upon daily new purchases of pleasure.
_Horn._ Ay, your arrantest cheat is your trustee or executor; your
jealous man, the greatest cuckold; your churchman the greatest
atheist; and your noisy pert rogue of a wit, the greatest fop, dullest
ass, and worst company, as you shall see; for here he comes.
_Enter_ SPARKISH.
_Spark._ How is't, sparks? how is't? Well, faith, Harry, I must rally
thee a little, ha! ha! ha! upon the report in town of thee, ha! ha! ha!
I can't hold i'faith; shall I speak?
_Horn._ Yes; but you'll be so bitter then.
_Spark._ Honest Dick and Frank here shall answer for me; I will not be
extreme bitter, by the universe.
_Har._ We will be bound in a ten thousand pound bond, he shall not be
bitter at all.
_Dor._ Nor sharp, nor sweet.
_Horn._ What, not downright insipid?
_Spark._ Nay then, since you are so brisk, and provoke me, take what
follows. You must know, I was discoursing and rallying with some ladies
yesterday, and they happened to talk of the fine new signs in town--
_Horn._ Very fine ladies, I believe.
_Spark._ Said I, I know where the best new sign is.--Where? says one
of the ladies.--In Covent-Garden, I replied.--Said another, In what
street?--In Russel-street, answered I.--Lord, says another, I'm sure
there was never a fine new sign there yesterday.--Yes, but there was,
said I again; and it came out of France, and has been there a fortnight.
_Dor._ A pox! I can hear no more, prithee.
_Horn._ No, hear him out; let him tune his crowd a while.
_Har._ The worst music, the greatest preparation.
_Spark._ Nay, faith, I'll make you laugh.--It cannot be, says a third
lady.--Yes, yes, quoth I again.--Says a fourth lady--
_Horn._ Look to't, we'll have no more ladies.
_Spark._ No--then mark, mark, now. Said I to the fourth, Did you never
see Mr. Horner? he lodges in Russel-street, and he's a sign of a man,
you know, since he came out of France; ha! ha! ha!
_Horn._ But the devil take me if thine be the sign of a jest.
_Spark._ With that they all fell a-laughing, till they bepissed
themselves. What, but it does not move you, methinks? Well, I see one
had as good go to law without a witness, as break a jest without a
laugher on one's side.--Come, come, sparks, but where do we dine? I
have left at Whitehall an earl, to dine with you.
_Dor._ Why, I thought thou hadst loved a man with a title, better than
a suit with a French trimming to't.
_Har._ Go to him again.
_Spark._ No, sir, a wit to me is the greatest title in the world.
_Horn._ But go dine with your earl, sir; he may be exception. We are
your friends, and will not take it ill to be left, I do assure you.
_Har._ Nay, faith, he shall go to him.
_Spark._ Nay, pray, gentlemen.
_Dor._ We'll thrust you out, if you won't; what, disappoint anybody for
us?
_Spark._ Nay, dear gentlemen, hear me.
_Horn._ No, no, sir, by no means; pray go, sir.
_Spark._ Why, dear rogues--
_Dor._ No, no. [_They all thrust him out of the room._
_All._ Ha! ha! ha!
_Re-enter_ SPARKISH.
_Spark._ But, sparks, pray hear me. What, d'ye think I'll eat then
with gay shallow fops and silent coxcombs? I think wit as necessary at
dinner, as a glass of good wine; and that's the reason I never have any
stomach when I eat alone.--Come, but where do we dine?
_Horn._ Even where you will.
_Spark._ At Chateline's?
_Dor._ Yes, if you will.
_Spark._ Or at the Cock?[73]
_Dor._ Yes, if you please.
_Spark._ Or at the Dog and Partridge?
_Horn._ Ay, if you have a mind to't; for we shall dine at neither.
_Spark._ Pshaw! with your fooling we shall lose the new play; and I
would no more miss seeing a new play the first day, than I would miss
sitting in the wit's row. Therefore I'll go fetch my mistress, and
away. [_Exit._
_Enter_ PINCHWIFE.
_Horn._ Who have we here? Pinchwife?
_Pinch._ Gentlemen, your humble servant.
_Horn._ Well, Jack, by thy long absence from the town, the grumness of
thy countenance, and the slovenliness of thy habit, I should give thee
joy, should I not, of marriage?
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] Death! does he know I'm married too? I thought to
have concealed it from him at least.--[_Aloud._] My long stay in the
country will excuse my dress; and I have a suit of law that brings me
up to town, that puts me out of humour. Besides, I must give Sparkish
to-morrow five thousand pounds to lie with my sister.
_Horn._ Nay, you country gentlemen, rather than not purchase, will buy
anything; and he is a cracked title, if we may quibble. Well, but am I
to give thee joy? I heard thou wert married.
_Pinch._ What then?
_Horn._ Why, the next thing that is to be heard, is, thou'rt a cuckold.
_Pinch._ Insupportable name! [_Aside._
_Horn._ But I did not expect marriage from such a whoremaster as you;
one that knew the town so much, and women so well.
_Pinch._ Why, I have married no London wife.
_Horn._ Pshaw! that's all one. That grave circumspection in marrying a
country wife, is like refusing a deceitful pampered Smithfield jade, to
go and be cheated by a friend in the country.
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] A pox on him and his simile!--[_Aloud._] At least
we are a little surer of the breed there, know what her keeping has
been, whether foiled or unsound.
_Horn._ Come, come, I have known a clap gotten in Wales; and there are
cousins, justices' clerks, and chaplains in the country, I won't say
coachmen. But she's handsome and young?
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] I'll answer as I should do.--[_Aloud._] No, no; she
has no beauty but her youth, no attraction but her modesty: wholesome,
homely, and huswifely; that's all.
_Dor._ He talks as like a grazier as he looks.
_Pinch._ She's too awkward, ill-favoured, and silly to bring to town.
_Har._ Then methinks you should bring her to be taught breeding.
_Pinch._ To be taught! no, sir, I thank you. Good wives and private
soldiers should be ignorant--I'll keep her from your instructions, I
warrant you.
_Har._ The rogue is as jealous as if his wife were not ignorant.
[_Aside._
_Horn._ Why, if she be ill-favoured, there will be less danger here
for you than by leaving her in the country. We have such variety of
dainties that we are seldom hungry.
_Dor._ But they have always coarse, constant, swingeing stomachs in the
country.
_Har._ Foul feeders indeed!
_Dor._ And your hospitality is great there.
_Har._ Open house; every man's welcome.
_Pinch._ So, so, gentlemen.
_Horn._ But prithee, why shouldst thou marry her? If she be ugly,
ill-bred, and silly, she must be rich then.
_Pinch._ As rich as if she brought me twenty thousand pound out of this
town; for she'll be as sure not to spend her moderate portion, as a
London baggage would be to spend hers, let it be what it would: so 'tis
all one. Then, because she's ugly, she's the likelier to be my own; and
being ill-bred, she'll hate conversation; and since silly and innocent,
will not know the difference betwixt a man of one-and-twenty and one of
forty.
_Horn._ Nine--to my knowledge. But if she be silly, she'll expect as
much from a man of forty-nine, as from him of one-and-twenty. But
methinks wit is more necessary than beauty; and I think no young woman
ugly that has it, and no handsome woman agreeable without it.
_Pinch._ 'Tis my maxim, he's a fool that marries; but he's a greater
that does not marry a fool. What is wit in a wife good for, but to make
a man a cuckold?
_Horn._ Yes, to keep it from his knowledge.
_Pinch._ A fool cannot contrive to make her husband a cuckold.
_Horn._ No; but she'll club with a man that can: and what is worse, if
she cannot make her husband a cuckold, she'll make him jealous, and
pass for one: and then 'tis all one.
_Pinch._ Well, well, I'll take care for one. My wife shall make me no
cuckold, though she had your help, Mr. Horner. I understand the town,
sir.
_Dor._ His help! [_Aside._
_Har._ He's come newly to town, it seems, and has not heard how things
are with him. [_Aside._
_Horn._ But tell me, has marriage cured thee of whoring, which it
seldom does?
_Har._ 'Tis more than age can do.
_Horn._ No, the word is, I'll marry and live honest: but a marriage
vow is like a penitent gamester's oath, and entering into bonds and
penalties to stint himself to such a particular small sum at play for
the future, which makes him but the more eager; and not being able to
hold out, loses his money again, and his forfeit to boot.
_Dor._ Ay, ay, a gamester will be a gamester whilst his money lasts,
and a whoremaster whilst his vigour.
_Har._ Nay, I have known 'em, when they are broke, and can lose no
more, keep a fumbling with the box in their hands to fool with only,
and hinder other gamesters.
_Dor._ That had wherewithal to make lusty stakes.
_Pinch._ Well, gentlemen, you may laugh at me; but you shall never lie
with my wife: I know the town.
_Horn._ But prithee, was not the way you were in better? is not keeping
better than marriage?
_Pinch._ A pox on't! the jades would jilt me, I could never keep a
whore to myself.
_Horn._ So, then you only married to keep a whore to yourself. Well,
but let me tell you, women, as you say, are like soldiers, made
constant and loyal by good pay, rather than by oaths and covenants.
Therefore I'd advise my friends to keep rather than marry, since too
I find, by your example, it does not serve one's turn; for I saw you
yesterday in the eighteenpenny place with a pretty country-wench.
_Pinch._ How the devil! did he see my wife then? I sat there that she
might not be seen. But she shall never go to a play again. [_Aside._
_Horn._ What! dost thou blush, at nine-and-forty, for having been seen
with a wench?
_Dor._ No, faith, I warrant 'twas his wife, which he seated there out
of sight; for he's a cunning rogue, and understands the town.
_Har._ He blushes. Then 'twas his wife; for men are now more ashamed to
be seen with them in public than with a wench.
_Pinch._ Hell and damnation! I'm undone, since Horner has seen her, and
they know 'twas she. [_Aside._
_Horn._ But prithee, was it thy wife? She was exceeding pretty: I was
in love with her at that distance.
_Pinch._ You are like never to be nearer to her. Your servant,
gentlemen. [_Offers to go._
_Horn._ Nay, prithee stay.
_Pinch._ I cannot; I will not.
_Horn._ Come, you shall dine with us.
_Pinch._ I have dined already.
_Horn._ Come, I know thou hast not: I'll treat thee, dear rogue; thou
sha't spend none of thy Hampshire money to-day.
_Pinch._ Treat me! So, he uses me already like his cuckold. [_Aside._
_Horn._ Nay, you shall not go.
_Pinch._ I must; I have business at home. [_Exit._
_Har._ To beat his wife. He's as jealous of her, as a Cheapside husband
of a Covent-garden wife.
_Horn._ Why, 'tis as hard to find an old whoremaster without jealousy
and the gout, as a young one without fear, or the pox:--
As gout in age from pox in youth proceeds,
So wenching past, then jealousy succeeds;
The worst disease that love and wenching breeds.
[_Exeunt._
ACT THE SECOND.
SCENE I _.--A Room in_ PINCHWIFE'S _House._
Mrs. MARGERY PINCHWIFE _and_ ALITHEA. PINCHWIFE _peeping
behind at the door._
_Mrs. Pinch._ Pray, sister, where are the best fields and woods to walk
in, in London?
_Alith._ [_Aside._] A pretty question!--[_Aloud._] Why, sister,
Mulberry-garden and St. James's park; and, for close walks, the New
Exchange.[74]
_Mrs. Pinch._ Pray, sister, tell me why my husband looks so grum here
in town, and keeps me up so close, and will not let me go a-walking,
nor let me wear my best gown yesterday.
_Alith._ O, he's jealous, sister.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Jealous! what's that?
_Alith._ He's afraid you should love another man.
_Mrs. Pinch._ How should he be afraid of my loving another man, when he
will not let me see any but himself?
_Alith._ Did he not carry you yesterday to a play?
_Mrs. Pinch._ Ay; but we sat amongst ugly people. He would not let me
come near the gentry, who sat under us, so that I could not see 'em. He
told me, none but naughty women sat there, whom they toused and moused.
But I would have ventured, for all that.
_Alith._ But how did you like the play?
_Mrs. Pinch._ Indeed I was weary of the play; but I liked hugeously the
actors. They are the goodliest, properest men, sister!
_Alith._ O, but you must not like the actors, sister.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Ay, how should I help it, sister? Pray, sister, when my
husband comes in, will you ask leave for me to go a-walking?
_Alith._ A-walking! ha! ha! Lord, a country-gentlewoman's pleasure is
the drudgery of a footpost; and she requires as much airing as her
husband's horses.--[_Aside._] But here comes your husband: I'll ask,
though I'm sure he'll not grant it.
_Mrs. Pinch._ He says he won't let me go abroad for fear of catching
the pox.
_Alith._ Fy! the small-pox you should say.
_Enter_ PINCHWIFE.
_Mrs. Pinch._ O my dear, dear bud, welcome home! Why dost thou look so
fropish? who has nangered thee?
_Pinch._ You're a fool. [Mrs. PINCHWIFE _goes aside, and cries._
_Alith._ Faith, so she is, for crying for no fault, poor tender
creature!
_Pinch._ What, you would have her as impudent as yourself, as arrant
a jilflirt, a gadder, a magpie; and to say all, a mere notorious
town-woman?
_Alith._ Brother, you are my only censurer; and the honour of your
family will sooner suffer in your wife there than in me, though I take
the innocent liberty of the town.
_Pinch._ Hark you, mistress, do not talk so before my wife.--The
innocent liberty of the town!
_Alith._ Why, pray, who boasts of any intrigue with me? what lampoon
has made my name notorious? what ill women frequent my lodgings? I keep
no company with any women of scandalous reputations.
_Pinch._ No, you keep the men of scandalous reputations company.
_Alith._ Where? would you not have me civil? answer 'em in a box
at the plays, in the drawing-room at Whitehall, in St James'-park,
Mulberry-garden, or--
_Pinch._ Hold, hold! Do not teach my wife where the men are to be
found: I believe she's the worse for your town-documents already. I bid
you keep her in ignorance, as I do.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Indeed, be not angry with her, bud, she will tell me
nothing of the town, though I ask her a thousand times a day.
_Pinch._ Then you are very inquisitive to know, I find?
_Mrs. Pinch._ Not I indeed, dear; I hate London. Our place-house in the
country is worth a thousand of't: would I were there again!
_Pinch._ So you shall, I warrant. But were you not talking of plays and
players when I came in?--[_To_ ALITHEA.] You are her encourager in such
discourses.
_Mrs. Pinch._ No, indeed, dear; she chid me just now for liking the
playermen.
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] Nay, if she be so innocent as to own to me her
liking them, there is no hurt in't.--[_Aloud._] Come, my poor rogue,
but thou likest none better than me?
_Mrs. Pinch._ Yes, indeed, but I do. The playermen are finer folks.
_Pinch._ But you love none better than me?
_Mrs. Pinch._ You are my own dear bud, and I know you. I hate a
stranger.
_Pinch._ Ay, my dear, you must love me only; and not be like the
naughty town-women, who only hate their husbands, and love every man
else; love plays, visits, fine coaches, fine clothes, fiddles, balls,
treats, and so lead a wicked town-life.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Nay, if to enjoy all these things be a town-life, London
is not so bad a place, dear.
_Pinch._ How! if you love me, you must hate London.
_Alith._ The fool has forbid me discovering to her the pleasures of the
town, and he is now setting her agog upon them himself. [_Aside._
_Mrs. Pinch._ But, husband, do the town-women love the playermen too?
_Pinch._ Yes, I warrant you.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Ay, I warrant you.
_Pinch._ Why, you do not, I hope?
_Mrs. Pinch._ No, no, bud. But why have we no playermen in the country?
_Pinch._ Ha!--Mrs. Minx, ask me no more to go to a play.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Nay, why, love? I did not care for going: but when you
forbid me, you make me, as 'twere, desire it.
_Alith._ So 'twill be in other things, I warrant. [_Aside._
_Mrs. Pinch._ Pray let me go to a play, dear.
_Pinch._ Hold your peace, I wo' not.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Why, love?
_Pinch._ Why, I'll tell you.
_Alith._ Nay, if he tell her, she'll give him more cause to forbid her
that place. [_Aside._
_Mrs. Pinch._ Pray why, dear?
_Pinch._ First, you like the actors; and the gallants may like you.
_Mrs. Pinch._ What, a homely country girl! No, bud, nobody will like me.
_Pinch._ I tell you yes, they may.
_Mrs. Pinch._ No, no, you jest--I won't believe you: I will go.
_Pinch._ I tell you then, that one of the lewdest fellows in town, who
saw you there, told me he was in love with you.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Indeed! who, who, pray who was't?
_Pinch._ I've gone too far, and slipped before I was aware; how
overjoyed she is! [_Aside._
_Mrs. Pinch._ Was it any Hampshire gallant, any of our neighbours? I
promise you, I am beholden to him.
_Pinch._ I promise you, you lie; for he would but ruin you, as he has
done hundreds. He has no other love for women but that; such as he look
upon women, like basilisks, but to destroy 'em.
_Mrs. Pinch_ Ay, but if he loves me, why should he ruin me? answer me
to that. Methinks he should not, I would do him no harm.
_Alith._ Ha! ha! ha!
_Pinch._ 'Tis very well; but I'll keep him from doing you any harm, or
me either. But here comes company; get you in, get you in.
_Mrs. Pinch._ But, pray, husband, is he a pretty gentleman that loves
me?
_Pinch._ In, baggage, in. [_Thrusts her in, and shuts the door._
_Enter_ SPARKISH _and_ HARCOURT.
What, all the lewd libertines of the town brought to my lodging by this
easy coxcomb! 'sdeath, I'll not suffer it.
_Spark._ Here, Harcourt, do you approve my choice?--[_To_ ALITHEA.]
Dear little rogue, I told you I'd bring you acquainted with all my
friends, the wits and--[HARCOURT _salutes her._
_Pinch._ Ay, they shall know her, as well as you yourself will, I
warrant you.
_Spark._ This is one of those, my pretty rogue, that are to dance at
your wedding to-morrow; and him you must bid welcome ever, to what you
and I have.
_Pinch._ Monstrous! [_Aside._
_Spark._ Harcourt, how dost thou like her, faith? Nay, dear, do not
look down; I should hate to have a wife of mine out of countenance at
anything.
_Pinch._ Wonderful! [_Aside._
_Spark._ Tell me, I say, Harcourt, how dost thou like her? Thou hast
stared upon her enough, to resolve me.
_Har._ So infinitely well, that I could wish I had a mistress too, that
might differ from her in nothing but her love and engagement to you.
_Alith._ Sir, Master Sparkish has often told me that his acquaintance
were all wits and raillieurs, and now I find it.
_Spark._ No, by the universe, madam, he does not rally now; you
may believe him. I do assure you, he is the honestest, worthiest,
true-hearted gentlemen--a man of such perfect honour, he would say
nothing to a lady he does not mean.
_Pinch._ Praising another man to his mistress! [_Aside._
_Har._ Sir, you are so beyond expectation obliging, that--
_Spark._ Nay, egad, I am sure you do admire her extremely; I see't in
your eyes.--He does admire you, madam.--By the world, don't you?
_Har._ Yes, above the world, or the most glorious part of it, her whole
sex: and till now I never thought I should have envied you, or any man
about to marry, but you have the best excuse for marriage I ever knew.
_Alith._ Nay, now, sir, I'm satisfied you are of the society of the
wits and raillieurs, since you cannot spare your friend, even when he
is but too civil to you; but the surest sign is, since you are an enemy
to marriage,--for that I hear you hate as much as business or bad wine.
_Har._ Truly, madam, I was never an enemy to marriage till now, because
marriage was never an enemy to me before.
_Alith._ But why, sir, is marriage an enemy to you now? because it robs
you of your friend here? for you look upon a friend married, as one
gone into a monastery, that is, dead to the world.
_Har._ 'Tis indeed, because you marry him; I see, madam, you can guess
my meaning. I do confess heartily and openly, I wish it were in my
power to break the match; by Heavens I would.
_Spark._ Poor Frank!
_Alith._ Would you be so unkind to me?
_Har._ No, no, 'tis not because I would be unkind to you.
_Spark._ Poor Frank! no gad, 'tis only his kindness to me.
_Pinch._ Great kindness to you indeed! Insensible fop, let a man make
love to his wife to his face! [_Aside._
_Spark._ Come, dear Frank, for all my wife there, that shall be, thou
shalt enjoy me sometimes, dear rogue. By my honour, we men of wit
condole for our deceased brother in marriage, as much as for one dead
in earnest: I think that was prettily said of me, ha, Harcourt?--But
come, Frank, be not melancholy for me.
_Har._ No, I assure you, I am not melancholy for you.
_Spark._ Prithee, Frank, dost think my wife that shall be there, a fine
person?
_Har._ I could gaze upon her till I became as blind as you are.
_Spark._ How as I am? how?
_Har._ Because you are a lover, and true lovers are blind, stock blind.
_Spark._ True, true; but by the world she has wit too, as well as
beauty: go, go with her into a corner, and try if she has wit; talk to
her anything, she's bashful before me.
_Har._ Indeed if a woman wants wit in a corner, she has it nowhere.
_Alith._ Sir, you dispose of me a little before your time--[_Aside to_
SPARKISH.
_Spark._ Nay, nay, madam, let me have an earnest of your obedience,
or--go, go, madam--[HARCOURT _courts_ ALITHEA _aside._
_Pinch._ How, sir! if you are not concerned for the honour of a wife, I
am for that of a sister; he shall not debauch her. Be a pander to your
own wife! bring men to her! let 'em make love before your face! thrust
'em into a corner together, then leave 'em in private! is this your
town wit and conduct?
_Spark._ Ha! ha! ha! a silly wise rogue would make one laugh more than
a stark fool, ha! ha! I shall burst. Nay, you shall not disturb 'em;
I'll vex thee, by the world. [_Struggles with_ PINCHWIFE _to keep him
from_ HARCOURT _and_ ALITHEA.
_Alith._ The writings are drawn, sir, settlements made; 'tis too late,
sir, and past all revocation.
_Har._ Then so is my death.
_Alith._ I would not be unjust to him.
_Har._ Then why to me so?
_Alith._ I have no obligation to you.
_Har._ My love.
_Alith._ I had his before.
_Har._ You never had it; he wants, you see, jealousy, the only
infallible sign of it.
_Alith._ Love proceeds from esteem; he cannot distrust my virtue:
besides, he loves me, or he would not marry me.
_Har._ Marrying you is no more sign of his love than bribing your
woman, that he may marry you, is a sign of his generosity. Marriage
is rather a sign of interest than love; and he that marries a fortune
covets a mistress, not loves her. But if you take marriage for a sign
of love, take it from me immediately.
_Alith._ No, now you have put a scruple in my head; but in short, sir,
to end our dispute, I must marry him, my reputation would suffer in the
world else.
_Har._ No; if you do marry him, with your pardon, madam, your
reputation suffers in the world, and you would be thought in necessity
for a cloak.
_Alith._ Nay, now you are rude, sir.--Mr. Sparkish, pray come hither,
your friend here is very troublesome, and very loving.
_Har._ Hold! hold!--[_Aside to_ ALITHEA.
_Pinch._ D'ye hear that?
_Spark._ Why, d'ye think I'll seem to be jealous, like a country
bumpkin?
_Pinch._ No, rather be a cuckold, like a credulous cit.
_Har._ Madam, you would not have been so little generous as to have
told him.
_Alith._ Yes, since you could be so little generous as to wrong him.
_Har._ Wrong him! no man can do't, he's beneath an injury: a bubble, a
coward, a senseless idiot, a wretch so contemptible to all the world
but you, that--
_Alith._ Hold, do not rail at him, for since he is like to be my
husband, I am resolved to like him: nay, I think I am obliged to tell
him you are not his friend.--Master Sparkish, Master Sparkish!
_Spark._ What, what?--[_To_ HARCOURT.] Now, dear rogue, has not she wit?
_Har._ Not so much as I thought, and hoped she had. [_Speaks surlily._
_Alith._ Mr. Sparkish, do you bring people to rail at you?
_Har._ Madam--
_Spark._ How! no; but if he does rail at me, 'tis but in jest, I
warrant: what we wits do for one another, and never take any notice of
it.
_Alith._ He spoke so scurrilously of you, I had no patience to hear
him; besides, he has been making love to me.
_Har._ True, damned tell-tale woman! [_Aside._
_Spark._ Pshaw! to show his parts--we wits rail and make love often,
but to show our parts: as we have no affections, so we have no malice,
we--
_Alith._ He said you were a wretch below an injury--
_Spark._ Pshaw!
_Har._ Damned, senseless, impudent, virtuous jade! Well, since she
won't let me have her, she'll do as good, she'll make me hate her.
[_Aside._
_Alith._ A common bubble--
_Spark._ Pshaw!
_Alith._ A coward--
_Spark._ Pshaw, pshaw!
_Alith._ A senseless, drivelling idiot--
_Spark._ How! did he disparage my parts? Nay, then, my honour's
concerned, I can't put up that, sir, by the world--brother, help me
to kill him--[_Aside_] I may draw now, since we have the odds of
him:--'tis a good occasion, too, before my mistress--[_Offers to draw._
_Alith._ Hold, hold!
_Spark._ What, what?
_Alith._ [_Aside._] I must not let 'em kill the gentleman neither, for
his kindness to me: I am so far from hating him, that I wish my gallant
had his person and understanding. Nay, if my honour--
_Spark._ I'll be thy death.
_Alith._ Hold, hold! Indeed, to tell the truth, the gentleman said
after all, that what he spoke was but out of friendship to you.
_Spark._ How! say, I am, I am a fool, that is, no wit, out of
friendship to me?
_Alith._ Yes, to try whether I was concerned enough for you; and made
love to me only to be satisfied of my virtue, for your sake.
_Har._ Kind, however. [_Aside._
_Spark._ Nay, if it were so, my dear rogue, I ask thee pardon; but why
would not you tell me so, faith?
_Har._ Because I did not think on't, faith.
_Spark._ Come, Horner does not come; Harcourt, let's be gone to the new
play.--Come, madam.
_Alith._ I will not go, if you intend to leave me alone in the box, and
run into the pit, as you use to do.
_Spark._ Pshaw! I'll leave Harcourt with you in the box to entertain
you, and that's as good; if I sat in the box, I should be thought no
judge but of trimmings.--Come away, Harcourt, lead her down. [_Exeunt_
SPARKISH, HARCOURT, _and_ ALITHEA.
_Pinch._ Well, go thy ways, for the flower of the true town fops, such
as spend their estates before they come to 'em, and are cuckolds before
they're married. But let me go look to my own freehold.--How!
_Enter_ Lady FIDGET, Mrs. DAINTY FIDGET, _and_ Mrs. SQUEAMISH.
_Lady Fid._ Your servant, sir: where is your lady? We are come to wait
upon her to the new play.
_Pinch._ New play!
_Lady Fid._ And my husband will wait upon you presently.
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] Damn your civility.--[_Aloud._] Madam, by no means;
I will not see Sir Jasper here, till I have waited upon him at home;
nor shall my wife see you till she has waited upon your ladyship at
your lodgings.
_Lady Fid._ Now we are here, sir?
_Pinch._ No, Madam.
_Mrs. Dain._ Pray, let us see her.
_Mrs. Squeam._ We will not stir till we see her.
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] A pox on you all!--[_Goes to the door, and
returns._] She has locked the door, and is gone abroad.
_Lady Fid._ No, you have locked the door, and she's within.
_Mrs. Dain._ They told us below she was here.
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] Will nothing do?--[_Aloud._] Well, it must out
then. To tell you the truth, ladies, which I was afraid to let you know
before, lest it might endanger your lives, my wife has just now the
small-pox come out upon her; do not be frightened; but pray be gone,
ladies; you shall not stay here in danger of your lives; pray get you
gone, ladies.
_Lady Fid._ No, no, we have all had 'em.
_Mrs. Squeam._ Alack, alack!
_Mrs. Dain._ Come, come, we must see how it goes with her; I understand
the disease.
_Lady Fid._ Come!
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] Well, there is no being too hard for women at their
own weapon, lying, therefore I'll quit the field. [_Exit._
_Mrs. Squeam._ Here's an example of jealousy!
_Lady Fid._ Indeed, as the world goes, I wonder there are no more
jealous, since wives are so neglected.
_Mrs. Dain._ Pshaw! as the world goes, to what end should they be
jealous?
_Lady Fid._ Foh! 'tis a nasty world.
_Mrs. Squeam._ That men of parts, great acquaintance, and quality,
should take up with and spend themselves and fortunes in keeping little
playhouse creatures, foh!
_Lady Fid._ Nay, that women of understanding, great acquaintance, and
good quality, should fall a-keeping too of little creatures, foh!
_Mrs. Squeam._ Why, 'tis the men of quality's fault; they never visit
women of honour and reputation as they used to do; and have not so much
as common civility for ladies of our rank, but use us with the same
indifferency and ill-breeding as if we were all married to 'em.
_Lady Fid._ She says true; 'tis an arrant shame women of quality should
be so slighted; methinks birth--birth should go for something; I have
known men admired, courted, and followed for their titles only.
_Mrs. Squeam._ Ay, one would think men of honour should not love, no
more than marry, out of their own rank.
_Mrs. Dain._ Fy, fy, upon 'em! they are come to think cross breeding
for themselves best, as well as for their dogs and horses.
_Lady Fid._ They are dogs and horses for't.
_Mrs. Squeam._ One would think, if not for love, for vanity a little.
_Mrs. Dain._ Nay, they do satisfy their vanity upon us sometimes; and
are kind to us in their report, tell all the world they lie with us.
_Lady Fid._ Damned rascals, that we should be only wronged by 'em! To
report a man has had a person, when he has not had a person, is the
greatest wrong in the whole world that can be done to a person.
_Mrs. Squeam._ Well, 'tis an arrant shame noble persons should be so
wronged and neglected.
_Lady Fid._ But still 'tis an arranter shame for a noble person to
neglect her own honour, and defame her own noble person with little
inconsiderable fellows, foh!
_Mrs. Dain._ I suppose the crime against our honour is the same with a
man of quality as with another.
_Lady Fid._ How! no sure, the man of quality is likest one's husband,
and therefore the fault should be the less.
_Mrs. Dain._ But then the pleasure should be the less.
_Lady Fid._ Fy, fy, fy, for shame, sister! whither shall we ramble? Be
continent in your discourse, or I shall hate you.
_Mrs. Dain._ Besides, an intrigue is so much the more notorious for the
man's quality.
_Mrs. Squeam._ 'Tis true that nobody takes notice of a private man, and
therefore with him 'tis more secret; and the crime's the less when 'tis
not known.
_Lady Fid._ You say true; i'faith, I think you are in the right on't:
'tis not an injury to a husband, till it be an injury to our honours;
so that a woman of honour loses no honour with a private person; and to
say truth--
_Mrs. Dain._ So, the little fellow is grown a private person--with
her--[_Apart to_ Mrs. SQUEAMISH.
_Lady Fid._ But still my dear, dear honour--
_Enter_ Sir JASPER FIDGET, HORNER, _and_ DORILANT.
_Sir Jasp._ Ay, my dear, dear of honour, thou hast still so much honour
in thy mouth--
_Horn._ That she has none elsewhere. [_Aside._
_Lady Fid._ Oh, what d'ye mean to bring in these upon us?
_Mrs. Dain._ Foh! these are as bad as wits.
_Mrs. Squeam._ Foh!
_Lady Fid._ Let us leave the room.
_Sir Jasp._ Stay, stay; faith, to tell you the naked truth--
_Lady Fid._ Fy, Sir Jasper! do not use that word naked.
_Sir Jasp._ Well, well, in short I have business at Whitehall, and
cannot go to the play with you, therefore would have you go--
_Lady Fid._ With those two to a play?
_Sir Jasp._ No, not with t'other, but with Mr. Horner; there can be no
more scandal to go with him than with Mr. Tattle, or Master Limberham.
_Lady Fid._ With that nasty fellow! no--no.
_Sir Jasp._ Nay, prithee, dear, hear me. [_Whispers to_ Lady FIDGET.
_Horn._ Ladies--[HORNER
_and_ DORILANT _draw near_ Mrs. SQUEAMISH _and_ Mrs. DAINTY FIDGET.
_Mrs. Dain._ Stand off.
_Mrs. Squeam._ Do not approach us.
_Mrs. Dain._ You herd with the wits, you are obscenity all over.
_Mrs. Squeam._ And I would as soon look upon a picture of Adam and Eve,
without fig-leaves, as any of you, if I could help it; therefore keep
off, and do not make us sick.
_Dor._ What a devil are these?
_Horn._ Why, these are pretenders to honour, as critics to wit, only by
censuring others; and as every raw, peevish, out-of-humoured, affected,
dull, tea-drinking, arithmetical fop, sets up for a wit by railing at
men of sense, so these for honour, by railing at the court, and ladies
of as great honour as quality.
_Sir Jasp._ Come, Mr. Horner, I must desire you to go with these ladies
to the play, sir.
_Horn._ I, sir?
_Sir Jasp._ Ay, ay, come, sir.
_Horn._ I must beg your pardon, sir, and theirs; I will not be seen in
women's company in public again for the world.
_Sir Jasp._ Ha, ha, strange aversion!
_Mrs. Squeam._ No, he's for women's company in private.
_Sir Jasp._ He--poor man--he--ha! ha! ha!
_Mrs. Dain._ 'Tis a greater shame amongst lewd fellows to be seen in
virtuous women's company, than for the women to be seen with them.
_Horn._ Indeed, madam, the time was I only hated virtuous women, but
now I hate the other too; I beg your pardon, ladies.
_Lady Fid._ You are very obliging, sir, because we would not be
troubled with you.
_Sir Jasp._ In sober sadness, he shall go.
_Dor._ Nay, if he wo' not, I am ready to wait upon the ladies, and I
think I am the fitter man.
_Sir Jasp._ You sir! no, I thank you for that. Master Horner is a
privileged man amongst the virtuous ladies, 'twill be a great while
before you are so; he! he! he! he's my wife's gallant; he! he! he!
No, pray withdraw, sir, for as I take it, the virtuous ladies have no
business with you.
_Dor._ And I am sure he can have none with them. 'Tis strange a man
can't come amongst virtuous women now, but upon the same terms as men
are admitted into the Great Turk's seraglio. But heavens keep me from
being an ombre player with 'em!--But where is Pinchwife? [_Exit._
_Sir Jasp._ Come, come, man; what, avoid the sweet society of
womankind? that sweet, soft, gentle, tame, noble creature, woman, made
for man's companion--
_Horn._ So is that soft, gentle, tame, and more noble creature a
spaniel, and has all their tricks; can fawn, lie down, suffer beating,
and fawn the more; barks at your friends when they come to see you,
makes your bed hard, gives you fleas, and the mange sometimes. And all
the difference is, the spaniel's the more faithful animal, and fawns
but upon one master.
_Sir Jasp._ He! he! he!
_Mrs. Squeam._ O the rude beast!
_Mrs. Dain._ Insolent brute!
_Lady Fid._ Brute! stinking, mortified, rotten French wether, to dare--
_Sir Jasp._ Hold, an't please your ladyship.--For shame, Master Horner!
your mother was a woman--[_Aside._] Now shall I never reconcile
'em.--[_Aside to_ Lady FIDGET.] Hark you, madam, take my advice in your
anger. You know you often want one to make up your drolling pack of
ombre players, and you may cheat him easily; for he's an ill gamester,
and consequently loves play. Besides, you know you have but two old
civil gentlemen (with stinking breaths too) to wait upon you abroad;
take in the third into your service. The other are but crazy; and a
lady should have a supernumerary gentleman-usher as a supernumerary
coach-horse, lest sometimes you should be forced to stay at home.
_Lady Fid._ But are you sure he loves play, and has money?
_Sir Jasp._ He loves play as much as you, and has money as much as I.
_Lady Fid._ Then I am contented to make him pay for his scurrility.
Money makes up in a measure all other wants in men.--Those whom we
cannot make hold for gallants, we make fine. [_Aside._
_Sir Jasp._ [_Aside._] So, so; now to mollify, wheedle him.--[_Aside
to_ HORNER.] Master Horner, will you never keep civil company? methinks
'tis time now, since you are only fit for them. Come, come, man, you
must e'en fall to visiting our wives, eating at our tables, drinking
tea with our virtuous relations after dinner, dealing cards to 'em,
reading plays and gazettes to 'em, picking fleas out of their smocks
for 'em, collecting receipts, new songs, women, pages, and footmen for
'em.
_Horn._ I hope they'll afford me better employment, sir.
_Sir Jasp._ He! he! he! 'tis fit you know your work before you come
into your place. And since you are unprovided of a lady to flatter, and
a good house to eat at, pray frequent mine, and call my wife mistress,
and she shall call you gallant, according to the custom.
_Horn._ Who, I?
_Sir Jasp._ Faith, thou sha't for my sake; come, for my sake only.
_Horn._ For your sake--
_Sir Jasp._ Come, come, here's a gamester for you; let him be a little
familiar sometimes; nay, what if a little rude? Gamesters may be rude
with ladies, you know.
_Lady Fid._ Yes; losing gamesters have a privilege with women.
_Horn._ I always thought the contrary, that the winning gamester had
most privilege with women; for when you have lost your money to a man,
you'll lose anything you have, all you have, they say, and he may use
you as he pleases.
_Sir Jasp._ He! he! he! well, win or lose, you shall have your liberty
with her.
_Lady Fid._ As he behaves himself; and for your sake I'll give him
admittance and freedom.
_Horn._ All sorts of freedom, madam?
_Sir Jasp._ Ay, ay, ay, all sorts of freedom thou canst take. And so go
to her, begin thy new employment; wheedle her, jest with her, and be
better acquainted one with another.
_Horn._ [_Aside._] I think I know her already; therefore may venture
with her my secret for hers. [HORNER _and_ Lady FIDGET _whisper._
_Sir Jasp._ Sister cuz, I have provided an innocent playfellow for you
there.
_Mrs. Dain._ Who, he?
_Mrs. Squeam._ There's a playfellow, indeed!
_Sir Jasp._ Yes sure.--What, he is good enough to play at cards,
blindman's-buff, or the fool with, sometimes!
_Mrs. Squeam._ Foh! we'll have no such playfellows.
_Mrs. Dain._ No, sir; you shan't choose playfellows for us, we thank
you.
_Sir Jasp._ Nay, pray hear me. [_Whispering to them._
_Lady Fid._ But, poor gentleman, could you be so generous, so truly
a man of honour, as for the sakes of us women of honour, to cause
yourself to be reported no man? No man! and to suffer yourself the
greatest shame that could fall upon a man, that none might fall upon us
women by your conversation? but, indeed, sir, as perfectly, perfectly
the same man as before your going into France, sir? as perfectly,
perfectly, sir?
_Horn._ As perfectly, perfectly, madam. Nay, I scorn you should take my
word; I desire to be tried only, madam.
_Lady Fid._ Well, that's spoken again like a man of honour: all men
of honour desire to come to the test. But, indeed, generally you men
report such things of yourselves, one does not know how or whom to
believe; and it is come to that pass, we dare not take your words no
more than your tailor's, without some staid servant of yours be bound
with you. But I have so strong a faith in your honour, dear, dear,
noble sir, that I'd forfeit mine for yours, at any time, dear sir.
_Horn._ No, madam, you should not need to forfeit it for me; I have
given you security already to save you harmless, my late reputation
being so well known in the world, madam.
_Lady Fid._ But if upon any future falling-out, or upon a suspicion
of my taking the trust out of your hands, to employ some other, you
yourself should betray your trust, dear sir? I mean, if you'll give me
leave to speak obscenely, you might tell, dear sir.
_Horn._ If I did, nobody would believe me. The reputation of impotency
is as hardly recovered again in the world as that of cowardice, dear
madam.
_Lady Fid._ Nay, then, as one may say, you may do your worst, dear,
dear sir.
_Sir Jasp._ Come, is your ladyship reconciled to him yet? have you
agreed on matters? for I must be gone to Whitehall.
_Lady Fid._ Why, indeed, Sir Jasper, Master Horner is a thousand,
thousand times a better man than I thought him. Cousin Squeamish,
sister Dainty, I can name him now. Truly, not long ago, you know, I
thought his very name obscenity; and I would as soon have lain with him
as have named him.
_Sir Jasp._ Very likely, poor madam.
_Mrs. Dain._ I believe it.
_Mrs. Squeam._ No doubt on't.
_Sir Jasp._ Well, well--that your ladyship is as virtuous as any she,
I know, and him all the town knows--he! he! he! therefore now you like
him, get you gone to your business together, go, go to your business, I
say, pleasure, whilst I go to my pleasure, business.
_Lady Fid._ Come, then, dear gallant.
_Horn._ Come away, my dearest mistress.
_Sir Jasp._ So, so; why, 'tis as I'd have it. [_Exit._
_Horn._ And as I'd have it.
_Lady Fid._
Who for his business from his wife will run,
Takes the best care to have her business done.
[_Exeunt._
ACT THE THIRD.
SCENE I.--_A Room in_ PINCHWIFE'S _House._
_Enter_ ALITHEA _and_ Mrs. PINCHWIFE.
_Alith._ Sister, what ails you? you are grown melancholy.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Would it not make any one melancholy to see you go every
day fluttering about abroad, whilst I must stay at home like a poor
lonely sullen bird in a cage?
_Alith._ Ay, sister; but you came young, and just from the nest to your
cage: so that I thought you liked it, and could be as cheerful in't as
others that took their flight themselves early, and are hopping abroad
in the open air.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Nay, I confess I was quiet enough till my husband told
me what pure lives the London ladies live abroad, with their dancing,
meetings, and junketings, and dressed every day in their best gowns;
and I warrant you, play at nine-pins every day of the week, so they do.
_Enter_ PINCHWIFE.
_Pinch._ Come, what's here to do? you are putting the town-pleasures in
her head, and setting her a-longing.
_Alith._ Yes, after nine-pins. You suffer none to give her those
longings you mean but yourself.
_Pinch._ I tell her of the vanities of the town like a confessor.
_Alith._ A confessor! just such a confessor as he that, by forbidding a
silly ostler to grease the horse's teeth, taught him to do't.
_Pinch._ Come, Mrs. Flippant, good precepts are lost when bad examples
are still before us: the liberty you take abroad makes her hanker after
it, and out of humour at home. Poor wretch! she desired not to come to
London; I would bring her.
_Alith._ Very well.
_Pinch._ She has been this week in town, and never desired till this
afternoon to go abroad.
_Alith._ Was she not at a play yesterday?
_Pinch._ Yes; but she ne'er asked me; I was myself the cause of her
going.
_Alith._ Then if she ask you again, you are the cause of her asking,
and not my example.
_Pinch._ Well, to-morrow night I shall be rid of you; and the next day,
before 'tis light, she and I'll be rid of the town, and my dreadful
apprehensions.--Come, be not melancholy; for thou sha't go into the
country after to-morrow, dearest.
_Alith._ Great comfort!
_Mrs. Pinch._ Pish! what d'ye tell me of the country for?
_Pinch._ How's this! what, pish at the country?
_Mrs. Pinch._ Let me alone; I am not well.
_Pinch._ O, if that be all--what ails my dearest?
_Mrs. Pinch._ Truly, I don't know: but I have not been well since you
told me there was a gallant at the play in love with me.
_Pinch._ Ha!--
_Alith._ That's by my example too!
_Pinch._ Nay, if you are not well, but are so concerned, because a lewd
fellow chanced to lie, and say he liked you, you'll make me sick too.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Of what sickness?
_Pinch._ O, of that which is worse than the plague, jealousy.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Pish, you jeer! I'm sure there's no such disease in our
receipt-book at home.
_Pinch._ No, thou never met'st with it, poor innocent.--Well, if thou
cuckold me, 'twill be my own fault--for cuckolds and bastards are
generally makers of their own fortune. [_Aside._
_Mrs. Pinch._ Well, but pray, bud, let's go to a play to-night.
_Pinch._ 'Tis just done, she comes from it. But why are you so eager to
see a play?
_Mrs. Pinch._ Faith, dear, not that I care one pin for their talk
there; but I like to look upon the player-men, and would see, if I
could, the gallant you say loves me: that's all, dear bud.
_Pinch._ Is that all, dear bud?
_Alith._ This proceeds from my example!
_Mrs. Pinch._ But if the play be done, let's go abroad, however, dear
bud.
_Pinch._ Come have a little patience and thou shalt go into the country
on Friday.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Therefore I would see first some sights to tell my
neighbours of. Nay, I will go abroad, that's once.
_Alith._ I'm the cause of this desire too!
_Pinch._ But now I think on't, who, who was the cause of Horner's
coming to my lodgings to-day? That was you.
_Alith._ No, you, because you would not let him see your handsome wife
out of your lodging.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Why, O Lord! did the gentleman come hither to see me
indeed?
_Pinch._ No, no.--You are not the cause of that damned question too,
Mistress Alithea?--[_Aside._] Well, she's in the right of it. He is in
love with my wife--and comes after her--'tis so--but I'll nip his love
in the bud; lest he should follow us into the country, and break his
chariot-wheel near our house, on purpose for an excuse to come to't.
But I think I know the town.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Come, pray, bud, let's go abroad before 'tis late; for I
will go, that's flat and plain.
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] So! the obstinacy already of the town-wife; and I
must, whilst she's here, humour her like one.--[_Aloud._] Sister, how
shall we do, that she may not be seen, or known?
_Alith._ Let her put on her mask.
_Pinch._ Pshaw! a mask makes people but the more inquisitive, and is as
ridiculous a disguise as a stage-beard: her shape, stature, habit will
be known. And if we should meet with Horner, he would be sure to take
acquaintance with us, must wish her joy, kiss her, talk to her, leer
upon her, and the devil and all. No, I'll not use her to a mask, 'tis
dangerous; for masks have made more cuckolds than the best faces that
ever were known.
_Alith._ How will you do then?
_Mrs. Pinch._ Nay, shall we go? The Exchange will be shut, and I have a
mind to see that.
_Pinch._ So--I have it--I'll dress her up in the suit we are to
carry down to her brother, little Sir James; nay, I understand the
town-tricks. Come, let's go dress her. A mask! no--a woman masked, like
a covered dish, gives a man curiosity and appetite; when, it may be,
uncovered, 'twould turn his stomach: no, no.
_Alith._ Indeed your comparison is something a greasy one: but I had a
gentle gallant used to say, A beauty masked, like the sun in eclipse,
gathers together more gazers than if it shined out. [_Exeunt._
SCENE II.--_The New Exchange._
_Enter_ HORNER, HARCOURT, _and_ DORILANT.
_Dor._ Engaged to women, and not sup with us!
_Horn._ Ay, a pox on 'em all!
_Har._ You were much a more reasonable man in the morning, and had as
noble resolutions against 'em, as a widower of a week's liberty.
_Dor._ Did I ever think to see you keep company with women in vain?
_Horn._ In vain: no--'tis since I can't love 'em, to be revenged on 'em.
_Har._ Now your sting is gone, you looked in the box amongst all those
women like a drone in the hive; all upon you, shoved and ill-used by
'em all, and thrust from one side to t'other.
_Dor._ Yet he must be buzzing amongst 'em still, like other
beetle-headed liquorish drones. Avoid 'em, and hate 'em, as they hate
you.
_Horn._ Because I do hate 'em, and would hate 'em yet more, I'll
frequent 'em. You may see by marriage, nothing makes a man hate a woman
more than her constant conversation. In short, I converse with 'em, as
you do with rich fools, to laugh at 'em and use 'em ill.
_Dor._ But I would no more sup with women, unless I could lie with 'em,
than sup with a rich coxcomb, unless I could cheat him.
_Horn._ Yes, I have known thee sup with a fool for his drinking; if he
could set out your hand that way only, you were satisfied, and if he
were a wine-swallowing mouth, 'twas enough.
_Har._ Yes, a man drinks often with a fool, as he tosses with a marker,
only to keep his hand in use. But do the ladies drink?
_Horn._ Yes, sir; and I shall have the pleasure at least of laying 'em
flat with a bottle, and bring as much scandal that way upon 'em as
formerly t'other.
_Har._ Perhaps you may prove as weak a brother among 'em that way as
t'other.
_Dor._ Foh! drinking with women is as unnatural as scolding with 'em.
But 'tis a pleasure of decayed fornicators, and the basest way of
quenching love.
_Har._ Nay, 'tis drowning love, instead of quenching it. But leave us
for civil women too!
_Dor._ Ay, when he can't be the better for 'em. We hardly pardon a man
that leaves his friend for a wench, and that's a pretty lawful call.
_Horn._ Faith, I would not leave you for 'em, if they would not drink.
_Dor._ Who would disappoint his company at Lewis's for a gossiping?
_Har._ Foh! Wine and women, good apart, together are as nauseous as
sack and sugar. But hark you, sir, before you go, a little of your
advice; an old maimed general, when unfit for action, is fittest for
counsel. I have other designs upon women than eating and drinking
with them; I am in love with Sparkish's mistress, whom he is to marry
to-morrow: now how shall I get her?
_Enter_ SPARKISH, _looking about._
_Horn._ Why, here comes one will help you to her.
_Har._ He! he, I tell you, is my rival, and will hinder my love.
_Horn._ No; a foolish rival and a jealous husband assist their rival's
designs; for they are sure to make their women hate them, which is the
first step to their love for another man.
_Har._ But I cannot come near his mistress but in his company.
_Horn._ Still the better for you; for fools are most easily cheated
when they themselves are accessories: and he is to be bubbled of his
mistress as of his money, the common mistress, by keeping him company.
_Spark._ Who is that that is to be bubbled? Faith, let me snack; I
han't met with a bubble since Christmas. 'Gad, I think bubbles are like
their brother woodcocks, go out with the cold weather.
_Har._ A pox! he did not hear all, I hope. [_Apart to_ HORNER.
_Spark._ Come, you bubbling rogues you, where do we sup?--Oh, Harcourt,
my mistress tells me you have been making fierce love to her all the
play long: ha! ha!--But I--
_Har._ I make love to her!
_Spark._ Nay, I forgive thee, for I think I know thee, and I know her;
but I am sure I know myself.
_Har._ Did she tell you so? I see all women are like these of the
Exchange; who, to enhance the prize of their commodities, report to
their fond customers offers which were never made 'em.
_Horn._ Ay, women are apt to tell before the intrigue, as men after
it, and so show themselves the vainer sex. But hast thou a mistress,
Sparkish? 'Tis as hard for me to believe it, as that thou ever hadst a
bubble, as you bragged just now.
_Spark._ O, your servant, sir: are you at your raillery, sir? But we
are some of us beforehand with you to-day at the play. The wits were
something bold with you, sir; did you not hear us laugh?
_Horn._ Yes; but I thought you had gone to plays, to laugh at the
poet's wit, not at your own.
_Spark._ Your servant, sir: no, I thank you. 'Gad I go to a play as to
a country treat; I carry my own wine to one, and my own wit to t'other,
or else I'm sure I should not be merry at either. And the reason why
we are so often louder than the players, is, because we think we speak
more wit, and so become the poet's rivals in his audience: for to tell
you the truth, we hate the silly rogues; nay, so much, that we find
fault even with their bawdy upon the stage, whilst we talk nothing else
in the pit as loud.
_Horn._ But why shouldst thou hate the silly poets? Thou hast too much
wit to be one; and they, like whores, are only hated by each other: and
thou dost scorn writing, I'm sure.
_Spark._ Yes; I'd have you to know I scorn writing: but women,
women, that make men do all foolish things, make 'em write songs too.
Everybody does it. 'Tis even as common with lovers, as playing with
fans; and you can no more help rhyming to your Phillis, than drinking
to your Phillis.
_Har._ Nay, poetry in love is no more to be avoided than jealousy.
_Dor._ But the poets damned your songs, did they?
_Spark._ Damn the poets! they have turned 'em into burlesque, as they
call it. That burlesque is a hocus-pocus trick they have got, which, by
the virtue of _Hictius doctius topsy turvy_, they make a wise and witty
man in the world, a fool upon the stage you know not how: and 'tis
therefore I hate 'em too, for I know not but it may be my own case; for
they'll put a man into a play for looking asquint. Their predecessors
were contented to make serving-men only their stage-fools: but these
rogues must have gentlemen, with a pox to 'em, nay, knights; and,
indeed, you shall hardly see a fool upon the stage but he's a knight.
And to tell you the truth, they have kept me these six years from being
a knight in earnest, for fear of being knighted in a play, and dubbed a
fool.
_Dor._ Blame 'em not, they must follow their copy, the age.
_Har._ But why shouldst thou be afraid of being in a play, who expose
yourself every day in the play-houses, and at public places?
_Horn._ 'Tis but being on the stage, instead of standing on a bench in
the pit.
_Dor._ Don't you give money to painters to draw you like? and are
you afraid of your pictures at length in a playhouse, where all your
mistresses may see you?
_Spark._ A pox! painters don't draw the small-pox or pimples in one's
face. Come, damn all your silly authors whatever, all books and
booksellers, by the world; and all readers, courteous or uncourteous!
_Har._ But who comes here, Sparkish?
_Enter_ PINCHWIFE _and_ Mrs. PINCHWIFE _in man's clothes_,
ALITHEA _and_ LUCY.
_Spark._ Oh, hide me! There's my mistress too. [SPARKISH _hides himself
behind_ HARCOURT.
_Har._ She sees you.
_Spark._ But I will not see her. 'Tis time to go to Whitehall, and I
must not fail the drawing-room.
_Har._ Pray, first carry me, and reconcile me to her.
_Spark._ Another time. Faith, the king will have supped.
_Har._ Not with the worse stomach for thy absence. Thou art one
of those fools that think their attendance at the king's meals as
necessary as his physicians, when you are more troublesome to him than
his doctors or his dogs.
_Spark._ Pshaw! I know my interest, sir. Prithee hide me.
_Horn._ Your servant, Pinchwife.--What, he knows us not!
_Pinch._ Come along. [_To his_ Wife _aside_.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Pray, have you any ballads? give me sixpenny worth.
_Bookseller._ We have no ballads.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Then give me "Covent Garden Drollery," and a play or
two--Oh, here's "Tarugo's Wiles," and "The Slighted Maiden";[75] I'll
have them.
_Pinch._ No; plays are not for your reading. Come along; will you
discover yourself? [_Apart to her._
_Horn._ Who is that pretty youth with him, Sparkish?
_Spark._ I believe his wife's brother, because he's something like her:
but I never saw her but once.
_Horn._ Extremely handsome; I have seen a face like it too. Let us
follow 'em. [_Exeunt_ PINCHWIFE, Mrs. PINCHWIFE, ALITHEA, _and_ LUCY;
HORNER _and_ DORILANT _following them._
_Har._ Come, Sparkish, your mistress saw you, and will be angry you go
not to her. Besides, I would fain be reconciled to her, which none but
you can do, dear friend.
_Spark._ Well, that's a better reason, dear friend. I would not go
near her now for her's or my own sake; but I can deny you nothing: for
though I have known thee a great while, never go, if I do not love thee
as well as a new acquaintance.
_Mar._ I am obliged to you indeed, dear friend. I would be well with
her, only to be well with thee still; for these ties to wives usually
dissolve all ties to friends. I would be contented she should enjoy you
a-nights, but I would have you to myself a-days as I have had, dear
friend.
_Spark._ And thou shalt enjoy me a-days, dear, dear friend, never stir:
and I'll be divorced from her, sooner than from thee. Come along.
_Har._ [_Aside._] So, we are hard put to't, when we make our rival our
procurer; but neither she nor her brother would let me come near her
now. When all's done, a rival is the best cloak to steal to a mistress
under, without suspicion; and when we have once got to her as we
desire, we throw him off like other cloaks. [_Exit_ SPARKISH, HARCOURT
_following him._
_Re-enter_ PINCHWIFE _and_ Mrs. PINCHWIFE.
_Pinch._ [_To_ ALITHEA.] Sister, if you will not go, we must leave
you.--[_Aside._] The fool her gallant and she will muster up all
the young saunterers of this place, and they will leave their dear
sempstresses to follow us. What a swarm of cuckolds and cuckold-makers
are here!--Come, let's be gone, Mistress Margery.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Don't you believe that; I han't half my bellyfull of
sights yet.
_Pinch._ Then walk this way.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Lord, what a power of brave signs are here! stay--the
Bull's-Head, the Ram's-Head, and the Stag's-Head, dear--
_Pinch._ Nay, if every husband's proper sign here were visible, they
would be all alike.
_Mrs. Pinch._ What d'ye mean by that, bud?
_Pinch._ 'Tis no matter--no matter, bud.
_Mrs Pinch._ Pray tell me: nay, I will know.
_Pinch._ They would be all Bulls, Stags, and Rams-heads. [_Exeunt_
PINCHWIFE _and_ Mrs. PINCHWIFE.
_Re-enter_ SPARKISH, HARCOURT, ALITHEA, _and_ LUCY,
_at the other side._
_Spark._ Come, dear madam, for my sake you shall be reconciled to him.
_Alith._ For your sake I hate him.
_Har._ That's something too cruel, madam, to hate me for his sake.
_Spark._ Ay indeed, madam, too, too cruel to me, to hate my friend for
my sake.
_Alith._ I hate him because he is your enemy; and you ought to hate him
too, for making love to me, if you love me.
_Spark._ That's a good one! I hate a man for loving you! If he did love
you, 'tis but what he can't help; and 'tis your fault, not his, if he
admires you. I hate a man for being of my opinion! I'll n'er do't, by
the world.
_Alith._ Is it for your honour, or mine, to suffer a man to make love
to me, who am to marry you to-morrow?
_Spark._ Is it for your honour, or mine, to have me jealous? That he
makes love to you, is a sign you are handsome; and that I am not
jealous, is a sign you are virtuous. That I think is for your honour.
_Alith._ But 'tis your honour too I am concerned for.
_Har._ But why, dearest madam, will you be more concerned for his
honour than he is himself? Let his honour alone, for my sake and his.
He! he has no honour--
_Spark._ How's that?
_Har._ But what my dear friend can guard himself.
_Spark._ O ho--that's right again.
_Har._ Your care of his honour argues his neglect of it, which is no
honour to my dear friend here. Therefore once more, let his honour go
which way it will, dear madam.
_Spark._ Ay, ay; were it for my honour to marry a woman whose virtue I
suspected, and could not trust her in a friend's hands?
_Alith._ Are you not afraid to lose me?
_Har._ He afraid to lose you, madam! No, no--you may see how the most
estimable and most glorious creature in the world is valued by him.
Will you not see it?
_Spark._ Right, honest Frank, I have that noble value for her that I
cannot be jealous of her.
_Alith._ You mistake him. He means, you care not for me, nor who has me.
_Spark._ Lord, madam, I see you are jealous! Will you wrest a poor
man's meaning from his words?
_Alith._ You astonish me, sir, with your want of jealousy.
_Spark._ And you make me giddy, madam, with your jealousy and fears,
and virtue and honour. 'Gad, I see virtue makes a woman as troublesome
as a little reading or learning.
_Alith._ Monstrous!
_Lucy._ Well, to see what easy husbands these women of quality can meet
with! a poor chambermaid can never have such ladylike luck. Besides,
he's thrown away upon her. She'll make no use of her fortune, her
blessing, none to a gentleman, for a pure cuckold; for it requires
good breeding to be a cuckold. [_Aside._
_Alith._ I tell you then plainly, he pursues me to marry me.
_Spark._ Pshaw!
_Har._ Come, madam, you see you strive in vain to make him jealous of
me. My dear friend is the kindest creature in the world to me.
_Spark._ Poor fellow!
_Har._ But his kindness only is not enough for me, without your favour,
your good opinion, dear madam: 'tis that must perfect my happiness.
Good gentleman, he believes all I say: would you would do so! Jealous
of me! I would not wrong him nor you for the world.
_Spark._ Look you there. Hear him, hear him, and do not walk away so.
[ALITHEA _walks carelessly to and fro._
_Har._ I love you, madam, so--
_Spark._ How's that? Nay, now you begin to go too far indeed.
_Har._ So much, I confess, I say, I love you, that I would not have you
miserable, and cast yourself away upon so unworthy and inconsiderable a
thing as what you see here. [_Clapping his hand on his breast, points
at_ SPARKISH.
_Spark._ No, faith, I believe thou wouldst not: now his meaning is
plain; but I knew before thou wouldst not wrong me, nor her.
_Har._ No, no, Heavens forbid the glory of her sex should fall so
low, as into the embraces of such a contemptible wretch, the least of
mankind--my friend here--I injure him! [_Embracing_ SPARKISH.
_Alith._ Very well.
_Spark._ No, no, dear friend, I knew it.--Madam, you see he will rather
wrong himself than me, in giving himself such names.
_Alith._ Do not you understand him yet?
_Spark._ Yes: how modestly he speaks of himself, poor fellow!
_Alith._ Methinks he speaks impudently of yourself, since--before
yourself too; insomuch that I can no longer suffer his scurrilous
abusiveness to you, no more than his love to me. [_Offers to go._
_Spark._ Nay, nay, madam, pray stay--his love to you! Lord, madam, has
he not spoke yet plain enough?
_Alith._ Yes, indeed, I should think so.
_Spark._ Well then, by the world, a man can't speak civilly to a woman
now, but presently she says, he makes love to her. Nay, madam, you
shall stay, with your pardon, since you have not yet understood him,
till he has made an eclaircissement of his love to you, that is, what
kind of love it is. Answer to thy catechism, friend; do you love my
mistress here?
_Har._ Yes, I wish she would not doubt it.
_Spark._ But how do you love her?
_Har._ With all my soul.
_Alith._ I thank him, methinks he speaks plain enough now.
_Spark._ [_To_ ALITHEA.] You are out still.--But with what kind of
love, Harcourt?
_Har._ With the best and the truest love in the world.
_Spark._ Look you there then, that is with no matrimonial love, I'm
sure.
_Alith._ How's that? do you say matrimonial love is not best?
_Spark._ 'Gad, I went too far ere I was aware. But speak for thyself,
Harcourt, you said you would not wrong me nor her.
_Har._ No, so, madam, e'en take him for Heaven's sake.
_Spark._ Look you there, madam.
_Har._ Who should in all justice be yours, he that loves you most.
[_Claps his hand on his breast._
_Alith._ Look you there, Mr. Sparkish, who's that?
_Spark._ Who should it be?--Go on, Harcourt.
_Har._ Who loves you more than women titles, or fortune fools. [_Points
at_ SPARKISH.
_Spark._ Look you there, he means me still, for he points at me.
_Alith._ Ridiculous!
_Har._ Who can only match your faith and constancy in love.
_Spark._ Ay.
_Har._ Who knows, if it be possible, how to value so much beauty and
virtue.
_Spark._ Ay.
_Har._ Whose love can no more be equalled in the world, than that
heavenly form of yours.
_Spark._ No.
_Har._ Who could no more suffer a rival, than your absence, and yet
could no more suspect your virtue, than his own constancy in his love
to you.
_Spark._ No.
_Har._ Who, in fine, loves you better than his eyes, that first made
him love you.
_Spark._ Ay--Nay, madam, faith, you shan't go till--
_Alith._ Have a care, lest you make me stay too long.
_Spark._ But till he has saluted you; that I may be assured you are
friends, after his honest advice and declaration. Come, pray, madam, be
friends with him.
_Re-enter_ PINCHWIFE _and_ Mrs. PINCHWIFE.
_Alith._ You must pardon me, sir, that I am not yet so obedient to you.
_Pinch._ What, invite your wife to kiss men? Monstrous! are you not
ashamed? I will never forgive you.
_Spark._ Are you not ashamed, that I should have more confidence in the
chastity of your family than you have? You must not teach me, I am a
man of honour, sir, though I am frank and free; I am frank, sir--
_Pinch._ Very frank, sir, to share your wife with your friends.
_Spark._ He is an humble, menial friend, such as reconciles the
differences of the marriage bed; you know man and wife do not always
agree; I design him for that use, therefore would have him well with my
wife.
_Pinch._ A menial friend!--you will get a great many menial friends, by
showing your wife as you do.
_Spark._ What then? It may be I have a pleasure in't, as I have to show
fine clothes at a play-house, the first day, and count money before
poor rogues.
_Pinch._ He that shows his wife or money, will be in danger of having
them borrowed sometimes.
_Spark._ I love to be envied, and would not marry a wife that I alone
could love; loving alone is as dull as eating alone. Is it not a frank
age? and I am a frank person; and to tell you the truth, it may be, I
love to have rivals in a wife, they make her seem to a man still but as
a kept mistress; and so good night, for I must to Whitehall.--Madam,
I hope you are now reconciled to my friend; and so I wish you a good
night, madam, and sleep if you can: for to-morrow you know I must
visit you early with a canonical gentleman. Good night, dear Harcourt.
[_Exit._
_Har._ Madam, I hope you will not refuse my visit to-morrow, if it
should be earlier with a canonical gentleman than Mr. Sparkish's.
_Pinch._ This gentlewoman is yet under my care, therefore you must yet
forbear your freedom with her, sir. [_Coming between_ ALITHEA _and_
HARCOURT.
_Har._ Must, sir?
_Pinch._ Yes, sir, she is my sister.
_Har._ 'Tis well she is, sir--for I must be her servant, sir.--Madam--
_Pinch._ Come away, sister, we had been gone, if it had not been for
you, and so avoided these lewd rake-hells, who seem to haunt us.
_Re-enter_ HORNER _and_ DORILANT.
_Horn._ How now, Pinchwife!
_Pinch._ Your servant.
_Horn._ What! I see a little time in the country makes a man turn wild
and unsociable, and only fit to converse with his horses, dogs, and his
herds.
_Pinch._ I have business, sir, and must mind it; your business is
pleasure, therefore you and I must go different ways.
_Horn._ Well, you may go on, but this pretty young gentleman--[_Takes
hold of Mrs._ PINCHWIFE.
_Har._ The lady--
_Dor._ And the maid--
_Horn._ Shall stay with us; for I suppose their business is the same
with ours, pleasure.
_Pinch._ 'Sdeath, he knows her, she carries it so sillily! yet if he
does not, I should be more silly to discover it first. [_Aside._
_Alith._ Pray, let us go, sir.
_Pinch._ Come, come--
_Horn._ [_To_ Mrs. PINCHWIFE.] Had you not rather stay with
us?--Prithee, Pinchwife, who is this pretty young gentleman?
_Pinch._ One to whom I'm a guardian.--[_Aside._] I wish I could keep
her out of your hands.
_Horn._ Who is he? I never saw anything so pretty in all my life.
_Pinch._ Pshaw! do not look upon him so much, he's a poor bashful
youth, you'll put him out of countenance.--Come away, brother. [_Offers
to take her away._
_Horn._ O, your brother!
_Pinch._ Yes, my wife's brother.--Come, come, she'll stay supper for us.
_Horn._ I thought so, for he is very like her I saw you at the play
with, whom I told you I was in love with.
_Mrs. Pinch._ [_Aside._] O jeminy! is that he that was in love with me?
I am glad on't, I vow, for he's a curious fine gentleman, and I love
him already, too.--[_To_ PINCHWIFE.] Is this he, bud?
_Pinch._ Come away, come away. [_To his_ Wife.
_Horn._ Why, what haste are you in? why won't you let me talk with him?
_Pinch._ Because you'll debauch him; he's yet young and innocent, and I
would not have him debauched for anything in the world.--[_Aside._] How
she gazes on him! the devil!
_Horn._ Harcourt, Dorilant, look you here, this is the likeness of that
dowdy he told us of, his wife; did you ever see a lovelier creature?
The rogue has reason to be jealous of his wife, since she is like him,
for she would make all that see her in love with her.
_Har._ And, as I remember now, she is as like him here as can be.
_Dor._ She is indeed very pretty, if she be like him.
_Horn._ Very pretty? a very pretty commendation!--she is a glorious
creature, beautiful beyond all things I ever beheld.
_Pinch._ So, so.
_Har._ More beautiful than a poet's first mistress of imagination.
_Horn._ Or another man's last mistress of flesh and blood.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Nay, now you jeer, sir; pray don't jeer me.
_Pinch._ Come, come.--[_Aside._] By Heavens, she'll discover herself!
_Horn._ I speak of your sister, sir.
_Pinch._ Ay, but saying she was handsome, if like him, made him
blush.--[_Aside._] I am upon a rack!
_Horn._ Methinks he is so handsome he should not be a man.
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] O, there 'tis out! he has discovered her! I am not
able to suffer any longer.--[_To his_ Wife.] Come, come away, I say.
_Horn._ Nay, by your leave, sir, he shall not go yet.--[_Aside to
them._] Harcourt, Dorilant, let us torment this jealous rogue a little.
_Har. Dor._ How?
_Horn._ I'll show you.
_Pinch._ Come, pray let him go, I cannot stay fooling any longer; I
tell you his sister stays supper for us.
_Horn._ Does she? Come then, we'll all go to sup with he and thee.
_Pinch._ No, now I think on't, having stayed so long for us, I warrant
she's gone to bed.--[_Aside._] I wish she and I were well out of their
hands.--[_To his_ Wife.] Come, I must rise early to-morrow, come.
_Horn._ Well then, if she be gone to bed, I wish her and you a good
night. But pray, young gentleman, present my humble service to her.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Thank you heartily, sir.
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] 'Sdeath, she will discover herself yet in spite of
me--[_Aloud._] He is something more civil to you, for your kindness to
his sister, than I am, it seems.
_Horn._ Tell her, dear sweet little gentleman, for all your brother
there, that you have revived the love I had for her at first sight in
the playhouse.
_Mrs. Pinch._ But did you love her indeed, and indeed?
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] So, so.--[_Aloud._] Away, I say.
_Horn._ Nay, stay.--Yes, indeed, and indeed, pray do you tell her so,
and give her this kiss from me. [_Kisses her._
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] O Heavens! what do I suffer? Now 'tis too plain he
knows her, and yet--
_Horn._ And this, and this--[_Kisses her again._
_Mrs. Pinch._ What do you kiss me for? I am no woman.
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] So, there, 'tis out.--[_Aloud._] Come, I cannot,
nor will stay any longer.
_Horn._ Nay, they shall send your lady a kiss too. Here, Harcourt,
Dorilant, will you not? [_They kiss her._
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] How! do I suffer this? Was I not accusing
another just now for this rascally patience, in permitting his wife
to be kissed before his face? Ten thousand ulcers gnaw away their
lips.--[_Aloud._] Come, come.
_Horn._ Good night, dear little gentleman; madam, good night: farewell,
Pinchwife.--[_Apart to_ HARCOURT _and_ DORILANT.] Did not I tell you I
would raise his jealous gall? [_Exeunt_ HORNER, HARCOURT _and_ DORILANT.
_Pinch._ So, they are gone at last; stay, let me see first if the coach
be at this door. [_Exit._
_Re-enter_ HORNER, HARCOURT, _and_ DORILANT.
_Horn._ What, not gone yet? Will you be sure to do as I desired you,
sweet sir?
_Mrs. Pinch._ Sweet sir, but what will you give me then?
_Horn._ Anything. Come away into the next walk. [_Exit, haling away_
Mrs. PINCHWIFE.
_Alith._ Hold! hold! what d'ye do?
_Lucy._ Stay, stay, hold--
_Har._ Hold, madam, hold, let him present him--he'll come presently;
nay, I will never let you go till you answer my question.
_Lucy._ For God's sake, sir, I must follow 'em. [ALITHEA _and_ LUCY,
_struggling with_ HARCOURT _and_ DORILANT.
_Dor._ No, I have something to present you with too, you shan't follow
them.
_Re-enter_ PINCHWIFE.
_Pinch._ Where?--how--what's become of?--gone!--whither?
_Lucy._ He's only gone with the gentleman, who will give him something,
an't please your worship.
_Pinch._ Something!--give him something, with a pox!--where are they?
_Alith._ In the next walk only, brother.
_Pinch._ Only, only! where, where? [_Exit and returns presently, then
goes out again._
_Har._ What's the matter with him? why so much concerned? But, dearest
madam--
_Alith._ Pray let me go, sir; I have said and suffered enough already.
_Har._ Then you will not look upon, nor pity, my sufferings?
_Alith._ To look upon 'em, when I cannot help 'em, were cruelty, not
pity; therefore, I will never see you more.
_Har._ Let me then, madam, have my privilege of a banished lover,
complaining or railing, and giving you but a farewell reason why, if
you cannot condescend to marry me, you should not take that wretch, my
rival.
_Alith._ He only, not you, since my honour is engaged so far to him,
can give me a reason why I should not marry him; but if he be true, and
what I think him to me, I must be so to him. Your servant, sir.
_Har._ Have women only constancy when 'tis a vice, and are, like
Fortune, only true to fools?
_Dor._ Thou sha't not stir, thou robust creature; you see I can deal
with you, therefore you should stay the rather, and be kind. [_To_
LUCY, _who struggles to get from him._
_Re-enter_ PINCHWIFE.
_Pinch._ Gone, gone, not to be found! quite gone! ten thousand plagues
go with 'em! Which way went they?
_Alith._ But into t'other walk, brother.
_Lucy._ Their business will be done presently sure, an't please your
worship; it can't be long in doing, I'm sure on't.
_Alith._ Are they not there?
_Pinch._ No, you know where they are, you infamous wretch, eternal
shame of your family, which you do not dishonour enough yourself you
think, but you must help her to do it too, thou legion of bawds!
_Alith._ Good brother--
_Pinch._ Damned, damned sister!
_Alith._ Look you here, she's coming.
_Re-enter_ Mrs. PINCHWIFE _running, with her hat full of
oranges and dried fruit under her arm,_ HORNER _following._
_Mrs. Pinch._ O dear bud, look you here what I have got, see!
_Pinch._ And what I have got here too, which you can't see! [_Aside,
rubbing his forehead._
_Mrs. Pinch._ The fine gentleman has given me better things yet.
_Pinch._ Has he so?--[_Aside._] Out of breath and coloured!--I must
hold yet.
_Horn._ I have only given your little brother an orange, sir.
_Pinch. [To_ HORNER.] Thank you, sir.--[_Aside._] You have only
squeezed my orange, I suppose, and given it me again; yet I must have a
city patience.--[_To his_ Wife.] Come, come away.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Stay, till I have put up my fine things, bud.
_Enter_ Sir JASPER FIDGET.
_Sir Jasp._ O, Master Horner, come, come, the ladies stay for you; your
mistress, my wife, wonders you make not more haste to her.
_Horn._ I have stayed this half hour for you here, and 'tis your fault
I am not now with your wife.
_Sir Jasp._ But, pray, don't let her know so much; the truth on't is, I
was advancing a certain project to his majesty about--I'll tell you.
_Horn._ No, let's go, and hear it at your house. Good night, sweet
little gentleman; one kiss more, you'll remember me now, I hope.
[_Kisses her._
_Dor._ What, Sir Jasper, will you separate friends? He promised to sup
with us, and if you take him to your house, you'll be in danger of our
company too.
_Sir Jasp._ Alas! gentlemen, my house is not fit for you; there are
none but civil women there, which are not for your turn. He, you know,
can bear with the society of civil women now, ha! ha! ha! besides, he's
one of my family--he's--he! he! he!
_Dor._ What is he?
_Sir Jasp._ Faith, my eunuch, since you'll have it; he! he! he!
[_Exeunt_ Sir JASPER FIDGET _and_ HORNER.
_Dor._ I rather wish thou wert his or my cuckold. Harcourt, what a good
cuckold is lost there for want of a man to make him one? Thee and I
cannot have Horner's privilege, who can make use of it.
_Har._ Ay, to poor Horner 'tis like coming to an estate at threescore,
when a man can't be the better for't.
_Pinch._ Come.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Presently, bud.
_Dor._ Come, let us go too.--[_To_ ALITHEA.] Madam, your
servant.--[_To_ LUCY.] Good night, strapper.
_Har._ Madam, though you will not let me have a good day or night, I
wish you one; but dare not name the other half of my wish.
_Alith._ Good night, sir, for ever.
_Mrs. Pinch._ I don't know where to put this here, dear bud, you shall
eat it; nay, you shall have part of the fine gentleman's good things,
or treat, as you call it, when we come home.
_Pinch._ Indeed, I deserve it, since I furnished the best part of it.
[_Strikes away the orange._
The gallant treats presents, and gives the ball;
But 'tis the absent cuckold pays for all.
[_Exeunt._
ACT THE FOURTH.
SCENE I.--PINCHWIFE'S _House in the morning._
_Enter_ ALITHEA _dressed in new clothes, and_ LUCY.
_Lucy._ Well--madam, now have I dressed you, and set you out with so
many ornaments, and spent upon you ounces of essence and pulvillio;[76]
and all this for no other purpose but as people adorn and perfume a
corpse for a stinking second-hand grave: such, or as bad, I think
Master Sparkish's bed.
_Alith._ Hold your peace.
_Lucy._ Nay, madam, I will ask you the reason why you would banish
poor Master Harcourt for ever from your sight; how could you be so
hard-hearted?
_Alith._ 'Twas because I was not hard-hearted.
_Lucy._ No, no; 'twas stark love and kindness, I warrant.
_Alith._ It was so; I would see him no more because I love him.
_Lucy._ Hey day, a very pretty reason!
_Alith._ You do not understand me.
_Lucy._ I wish you may yourself.
_Alith._ I was engaged to marry, you see, another man, whom my justice
will not suffer me to deceive or injure.
_Lucy._ Can there be a greater cheat or wrong done to a man than to
give him your person without your heart? I should make a conscience of
it.
_Alith._ I'll retrieve it for him after I am married a while.
_Lucy._ The woman that marries to love better, will be as much mistaken
as the wencher that marries to live better. No, madam, marrying to
increase love is like gaming to become rich; alas! you only lose what
little stock you had before.
_Alith._ I find by your rhetoric you have been bribed to betray me.
_Lucy._ Only by his merit, that has bribed your heart, you see, against
your word and rigid honour. But what a devil is this honour! 'tis sure
a disease in the head, like the megrim or falling-sickness, that always
hurries people away to do themselves mischief. Men lose their lives by
it; women, what's dearer to 'em, their love, the life of life.
_Alith._ Come, pray talk you no more of honour, nor Master Harcourt; I
wish the other would come to secure my fidelity to him and his right in
me.
_Lucy._ You will marry him then?
_Alith._ Certainly, I have given him already my word, and will my hand
too, to make it good, when he comes.
_Lucy._ Well, I wish I may never stick pin more, if he be not an arrant
natural, to t'other fine gentleman.
_Alith._ I own he wants the wit of Harcourt, which I will dispense
withal for another want he has, which is want of jealousy, which men of
wit seldom want.
_Lucy._ Lord, madam, what should you do with a fool to your husband?
You intend to be honest, don't you? then that husbandly virtue,
credulity, is thrown away upon you.
_Alith._ He only that could suspect my virtue should have cause to do
it; 'tis Sparkish's confidence in my truth that obliges me to be so
faithful to him.
_Lucy._ You are not sure his opinion may last.
_Alith._ I am satisfied, 'tis impossible for him to be jealous after
the proofs I have had of him. Jealousy in a husband--Heaven defend me
from it! it begets a thousand plagues to a poor woman, the loss of her
honour, her quiet, and her--
_Lucy._ And her pleasure.
_Alith._ What d'ye mean, impertinent?
_Lucy._ Liberty is a great pleasure, madam.
_Alith._ I say, loss of her honour, her quiet, nay, her life sometimes;
and what's as bad almost, the loss of this town; that is, she is sent
into the country, which is the last ill-usage of a husband to a wife, I
think.
_Lucy._ [_Aside._] O, does the wind lie there?--[_Aloud._] Then of
necessity, madam, you think a man must carry his wife into the country,
if he be wise. The country is as terrible, I find, to our young English
ladies, as a monastery to those abroad; and on my virginity, I think
they would rather marry a London jailer, than a high sheriff of a
county, since neither can stir from his employment. Formerly women
of wit married fools for a great estate, a fine seat, or the like;
but now 'tis for a pretty seat only in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, St.
James's-Fields, or the Pall-Mall.
_Enter_ SPARKISH, _and_ HARCOURT, _dressed like a_ Parson.
_Spark._ Madam, your humble servant, a happy day to you, and to us all.
_Har._ Amen.
_Alith._ Who have we here?
_Spark._ My chaplain, faith--O madam, poor Harcourt remembers his
humble service to you; and, in obedience to your last commands,
refrains coming into your sight.
_Alith._ Is not that he?
_Spark._ No, fy, no; but to show that he ne'er intended to hinder our
match, has sent his brother here to join our hands. When I get me a
wife, I must get her a chaplain, according to the custom; that is his
brother, and my chaplain.
_Alith._ His brother!
_Lucy._ And your chaplain, to preach in your pulpit then--[_Aside._
_Alith._ His brother!
_Spark._ Nay, I knew you would not believe it.--I told you, sir, she
would take you for your brother Frank.
_Alith._ Believe it!
_Lucy._ His brother! ha! ha! he! he has a trick left still, it seems.
[_Aside._
_Spark._ Come, my dearest, pray let us go to church before the
canonical hour is past.
_Alith._ For shame, you are abused still.
_Spark._ By the world, 'tis strange now you are so incredulous.
_Alith._ 'Tis strange you are so credulous.
_Spark._ Dearest of my life, hear me. I tell you this is Ned Harcourt
of Cambridge, by the world; you see he has a sneaking college look.
'Tis true he's something like his brother Frank; and they differ from
each other no more than in their age, for they were twins.
_Lucy._ Ha! ha! ha!
_Alith._ Your servant, sir; I cannot be so deceived, though you are.
But come, let's hear, how do you know what you affirm so confidently?
_Spark._ Why, I'll tell you all. Frank Harcourt coming to me this
morning to wish me joy, and present his service to you, I asked him if
he could help me to a parson. Whereupon he told me, he had a brother in
town who was in orders; and he went straight away, and sent him, you
see there, to me.
_Alith._ Yes, Frank goes and puts on a black coat, then tells you he is
Ned; that's all you have for't.
_Spark._ Pshaw! pshaw! I tell you, by the same token, the midwife put
her garter about Frank's neck, to know 'em asunder, they were so like.
_Alith._ Frank tells you this too?
_Spark._ Ay, and Ned there too: nay, they are both in a story.
_Alith._ So, so; very foolish.
_Spark._ Lord, if you won't believe one, you had best try him by your
chambermaid there; for chambermaids must needs know chaplains from
other men, they are so used to 'em.
_Lucy._ Let's see: nay, I'll be sworn he has the canonical smirk, and
the filthy clammy palm of a chaplain.
_Alith._ Well, most reverend doctor, pray let us make an end of this
fooling.
_Har._ With all my soul, divine heavenly creature, when you please.
_Alith._ He speaks like a chaplain indeed.
_Spark._ Why, was there not soul, divine, heavenly, in what he said?
_Alith._ Once more, most impertinent black coat, cease your
persecution, and let us have a conclusion of this ridiculous love.
_Har._ I had forgot, I must suit my style to my coat, or I wear it in
vain. [_Aside._
_Alith._ I have no more patience left; let us make once an end of this
troublesome love, I say.
_Har._ So be it, seraphic lady, when your honour shall think it meet
and convenient so to do.
_Spark._ 'Gad I'm sure none but a chaplain could speak so, I think.
_Alith._ Let me tell you, sir, this dull trick will not serve your
turn; though you delay our marriage, you shall not hinder it.
_Har._ Far be it from me, munificent patroness, to delay your marriage;
I desire nothing more than to marry you presently, which I might do,
if you yourself would; for my noble, good-natured, and thrice generous
patron here would not hinder it.
_Spark._ No, poor man, not I, faith.
_Har._ And now, madam, let me tell you plainly nobody else shall marry
you; by Heavens! I'll die first, for I'm sure I should die after it.
_Lucy._ How his love has made him forget his function, as I have seen
it in real parsons!
_Alith._ That was spoken like a chaplain too? now you understand him, I
hope.
_Spark._ Poor man, he takes it heinously to be refused; I can't blame
him, 'tis putting an indignity upon him, not to be suffered; but you'll
pardon me, madam, it shan't be; he shall marry us; come away, pray
madam.
_Lucy._ Ha! ha! he! more ado! 'tis late.
_Alith._ Invincible stupidity! I tell you, he would marry me as your
rival, not as your chaplain.
_Spark._ Come, come, madam. [_Pulling her away._
_Lucy._ I pray, madam, do not refuse this reverend divine the honour
and satisfaction of marrying you; for I dare say, he has set his heart
upon't, good doctor.
_Alith._ What can you hope or design by this?
_Har._ I could answer her, a reprieve for a day only, often revokes
a hasty doom. At worst, if she will not take mercy on me, and let me
marry her, I have at least the lover's second pleasure, hindering my
rival's enjoyment, though but for a time. [_Aside_.
_Spark._ Come, madam, 'tis e'en twelve o'clock, and my mother charged
me never to be married out of the canonical hours. Come, come; Lord,
here's such a deal of modesty, I warrant, the first day.
_Lucy._ Yes, an't please your worship, married women show all their
modesty the first day, because married men show all their love the
first day. [_Exeunt._
SCENE II.--_A Bedchamber in_ PINCHWIFE'S _House._
PINCHWIFE _and_ Mrs. PINCHWIFE _discovered._
_Pinch._ Come, tell me, I say.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Lord! han't I told it a hundred times over?
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] I would try, if in the repetition of the ungrateful
tale, I could find her altering it in the least circumstance; for if
her story be false, she is so too.--[_Aloud._] Come, how was't, baggage?
_Mrs. Pinch._ Lord, what pleasure you take to hear it sure!
_Pinch._ No, you take more in telling it I find; but speak, how was't?
_Mrs. Pinch._ He carried me up into the house next to the Exchange.
_Pinch._ So, and you two were only in the room!
_Mrs. Pinch._ Yes, for he sent away a youth that was there, for some
dried fruit, and China oranges.
_Pinch._ Did he so? Damn him for it--and for--
_Mrs. Pinch._ But presently came up the gentlewoman of the house.
_Pinch._ O, 'twas well she did; but what did he do whilst the fruit
came?
_Mrs. Pinch._ He kissed me a hundred times, and told me he fancied he
kissed my fine sister, meaning me, you know, whom he said he loved with
all his soul, and bid me be sure to tell her so, and to desire her to
be at her window, by eleven of the clock this morning, and he would
walk under it at that time.
_Pinch._ And he was as good as his word, very punctual; a pox reward
him for't. [_Aside._
_Mrs. Pinch._ Well, and he said if you were not within, he would come
up to her, meaning me, you know, bud, still.
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] So--he knew her certainly; but for this
confession, I am obliged to her simplicity.--[_Aloud._] But what, you
stood very still when he kissed you?
_Mrs. Pinch._ Yes, I warrant you; would you have had me discovered
myself?
_Pinch._ But you told me he did some beastliness to you, as you call
it; what was't?
_Mrs. Pinch._ Why, he put--
_Pinch._ What?
_Mrs. Pinch._ Why, he put the tip of his tongue between my lips, and so
mousled me--and I said, I'd bite it.
_Pinch._ An eternal canker seize it, for a dog!
_Mrs. Pinch._ Nay, you need not be so angry with him neither, for to
say truth, he has the sweetest breath I ever knew.
_Pinch._ The devil! you were satisfied with it then, and would do it
again?
_Mrs. Pinch._ Not unless he should force me.
_Pinch._ Force you, changeling! I tell you, no woman can be forced.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Yes, but she may sure, by such a one as he, for he's a
proper, goodly, strong man; 'tis hard, let me tell you, to resist him.
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] So, 'tis plain she loves him, yet she has not
love enough to make her conceal it from me; but the sight of him will
increase her aversion for me and love for him; and that love instruct
her how to deceive me and satisfy him, all idiot as she is. Love! 'twas
he gave women first their craft, their art of deluding. Out of Nature's
hands they came plain, open, silly, and fit for slaves, as she and
Heaven intended 'em; but damned Love--well--I must strangle that little
monster whilst I can deal with him.--[_Aloud._] Go fetch pen, ink, and
paper out of the next room.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Yes, bud. [_Exit._
_Pinch._ Why should women have more invention in love than men? It can
only be, because they have more desires, more soliciting passions,
more lust, and more of the devil.
_Re-enter_ Mrs. PINCHWIFE.
Come, minx, sit down and write.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Ay, dear bud, but I can't do't very well.
_Pinch._ I wish you could not at all.
_Mrs. Pinch._ But what should I write for?
_Pinch._ I'll have you write a letter to your lover.
_Mrs. Pinch._ O Lord, to the fine gentleman a letter!
_Pinch._ Yes, to the fine gentleman.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Lord, you do but jeer: sure you jest.
_Pinch._ I am not so merry: come, write as I bid you.
_Mrs. Pinch._ What, do you think I am a fool?
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] She's afraid I would not dictate any love to him,
therefore she's unwilling.--[_Aloud._] But you had best begin.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Indeed, and indeed, but I won't, so I won't.
_Pinch._ Why?
_Mrs. Pinch._ Because he's in town; you may send for him if you will.
_Pinch._ Very well, you would have him brought to you; is it come to
this? I say, take the pen and write, or you'll provoke me.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Lord, what d'ye make a fool of me for? Don't I know that
letters are never writ but from the country to London, and from London
into the country? Now he's in town, and I am in town too; therefore I
can't write to him, you know.
_Pinch._ [_Aside._] So, I am glad it is no worse; she is innocent
enough yet.--[_Aloud._] Yes, you may, when your husband bids you, write
letters to people that are in town.
_Mrs. Pinch._ O, may I so? then I'm satisfied.
_Pinch._ Come, begin:--"Sir"--[_Dictates._
_Mrs. Pinch._ Shan't I say, "Dear Sir?"--You know one says always
something more than bare "sir."
_Pinch._ Write as I bid you, or I will write whore with this penknife
in your face.
_Mrs. Pinch._ Nay, good bud--"Sir"--[_Writes._
_Pinch._ "Though I suffered last night your nauseous, loathed kisses
and embraces"--Write!
_Mrs. Pinch_ Nay, why should I say so? You know I told you he had a
sweet breath.
_Pinch._ Write!
_Mrs. Pinch._ Let me but put out "loathed."
_Pinch._ Write, I say!
_Mrs. Pinch._ Well then. [_Writes._
_Pinch._ Let's see, what have you writ?--[_Takes the paper and reads._]
"Though I suffered last night your kisses and embraces"--Thou impudent
creature! where is "nauseous" and "loathed?"
_Mrs. Pinch._ I can't abide to write such filthy words.
_Pinch._ Once more write as I'd have you, and question it not, or I
will spoil thy writing with this. I will stab out those eyes that cause
my mischief. [_Holds up the penknife._
_Mrs. Pinch._ O Lord! I will.
_Pinch._ So--so--let's see now.--[_Reads._] "Though I suffered last
night your nauseous, loathed kisses and embraces"--go on--"yet I would
not have you presume that you shall ever repeat them"--so--[_She
writes._
_Mrs. Pinch._ I have writ it.
_Pinch._ On, then--"I then concealed myself from your knowledge, to
avoid your insolencies."--[_She writes._
_Mrs. Pinch._ So--
_Pinch._ "The same reason, now I am out of your hands--" [_She writes._
_Mrs. Pinch._ So--
_Pinch._ "Makes me own to you my unfortunate, though innocent frolic,
of being in man's clothes"--[_She writes._
_Mrs. Pinch._ So--
_Pinch._ "That you may for evermore cease to pursue her, who hates and
detests you"--[_She writes on._
_Mrs. Pinch._ So--heigh! [_Sighs._
_Pinch._ What, do you sigh?--"detests you--as much as she loves her
husband and her honour--"
_Mrs. Pinch._ I vow, husband, he'll ne'er believe I should write such a
letter.
_Pinch._ What, he'd expect a kinder from you? Come, now your name only.
_Mrs. Pinch._ What, shan't I say "Your most faithful humble servant
till death?"