Horn. My impertinency!—why, you gentlemen that have got handsome wives, think you have a privilege of saying anything to your friends, and are as brutish as if you were our creditors

Pinch. No, sir, I’ll ne’er trust you any way.

Horn. But why not, dear Jack? why diffide in me thou know’st so well?

Pinch. Because I do know you so well.

Horn. Han’t I been always thy friend. honest Jack, always ready to serve thee, in love or battle, before thou wert married, and am so still?

Pinch. I believe so, you would be my second now, indeed.

Horn. Well then, dear Jack, why so unkind, so grum, so strange to me? Come, prithee kiss me, dear rogue: gad, I was always, I say, and am still as much thy servant as—

Pinch. As I am yours, sir. What, you would send a kiss to my wife, is that it?

Horn. So, there ’tis—a man can’t show his friendship to a married man, but presently he talks of his wife to you. Prithee, let thy wife alone, and let thee and I be all one, as we were wont. What, thou art as shy of my kindness as a Lombard Street alderman of a courtier’s civility at Locket’s!

Pinch. But you are over-kind to me, as kind as if I were your cuckold already; yet I must confess you ought to be kind and civil to me, since I am so kind, so civil to you, as to bring you this: look you there, sir.

[Delivers him a letter.

Horn. What is’t?

Pinch. Only a love-letter, sir.

Horn. From whom?—how! this is from your wife—hum— and hum—

[Reads.

Pinch. Even from my wife, sir: am I not wondrous kind and civil to you now too?—[Aside. But you’ll not think her so.

Horn. Ha! is this a trick of his or hers?

[Aside.

Pinch. The gentleman’s surprised I find.—What, you expected a kinder letter?

Horn. No faith, not I, how could I?

Pinch. Yes, yes, I’m sure you did. A man so well made as you are, must needs be disappointed, if the women declare not their passion at first sight or opportunity.

Horn. [aside]. But what should this mean? Stay, the postscript.—[Reads aside.] “Be sure you love me, whatsoever my husband says to the contrary, and let him not see this, lest he should come home and pinch me, or kill my squirrel.”—It seems he knows not what the letter contains.

Pinch. Come, ne’er wonder at it so much.