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?”

Pinch. No, tormenting fiend!—[Aside.] Her style, I find, would be very soft.—[Aloud.] Come, wrap it up now, whilst I go fetch wax and a candle; and write on the backside, “For Mr. Horner.”

[Exit.

Mrs. Pinch. “For Mr. Horner.”—So, I am glad he has told me his name. Dear Mr. Horner! but why should I send thee such a letter that will vex thee, and make thee angry with me?— Well, I will not send it.—Ay, but then my husband will kill me— for I see plainly won’t let me love Mr. Horner—but what care I for my husband?—I won’t, so I won’t, send poor Mr. Horner such a letter—But then my husband—but oh, what if I writ at bottom my husband made me write it?—Ay, but then my husband would see’t—Can one have no shift? ah, a London woman would have had a hundred presently. Stay—what if I should write a letter, and wrap it up like this, and write upon’t too? Ay, but then my husband would see’t—I don’t know what to do.—But yet evads I’ll try, so I will—for I will not send this letter to poor Mr. Horner, come what will on’t. “Dear, sweet Mr. Horner”—[Writes and repeats what she writes.]—so—“my husband would have me send you a base, rude, unmannerly letter; but I won’t”—so—“and would have me forbid you loving me; but I won’t”—so—“and would have me say to you, I hate you, poor Mr. Horner; but I won’t tell a lie for him”—there—“for I’m sure if you and I were in the country at cards together”—so—“I could not help treading on your toe under the table”—so—“or rubbing knees with you, and staring in your face, till you saw me”—very well—“and then looking down, and blushing for an hour together”—so— “but I must make haste before my husband comes: and now he has taught me to write letters, you shall have longer ones from me, who am, dear, dear, poor, dear Mr. Horner, your most humble friend, and servant to command till death,—Margery Pinchwife.” Stay, I must give him a hint at bottom—so—now wrap it up just like t’other—so—now write “For Mr. Horner”—But oh now, what shall I do with it? for here comes my husband.

Re-enter PINCHWIFE.

Pinch. [aside]. I have been detained by a sparkish coxcomb, who pretended a visit to me; but I fear ’twas to my wife— [Aloud.] What, have you done?

Mrs. Pinch. Ay, ay, bud, just now.

Pinch. Let’s see’t: what d’ye tremble for? what, you would not have it go?