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.