with her—our sisters and daughters, like usurers’ money, are safest when put out; but our wives, like their writings, never safe, but in our closets under lock and key.

[Exit.

Enter Boy.

Boy. Sir Jasper Fidget, sir, is coming up.

[Exit

Horn. Here’s the trouble of a cuckold now we are talking of. A pox on him! has he not enough to do to hinder his wife’s sport, but he must other women’s too?—Step in here, madam.

[Exit Mrs. Pinchwife.

Enter Sir Jasper Fidget.

Sir Jasp. My best and dearest friend.

Horn. [aside to Quack]. The old style, doctor.—[Aloud.] Well, be short, for I am busy. What would your impertinent wife have now?

Sir Jasp. Well guessed, i’faith; for I do come from her.

Horn. To invite me to supper! Tell her, I can’t come: go.

Sir Jasp. Nay, now you are out, faith; for my lady, and the whole knot of the virtuous gang, as they call themselves, are resolved upon a frolio of coming to you to-night in masquerade, and are all dressed already.

Horn. I shan’t be at home.

Sir Jasp. [aside]. Lord, how churlish he is to women!—[Aloud.] Nay, prithee don’t disappoint ’em; they’ll think ’tis my fault: prithee don’t. I’ll send in the banquet and the fiddles. But make no noise on’t; for the poor virtuous rogues would not have it known, for the world, that they go a-masquerading; and they would come to no man’s ball but yours.

Horn. Well, well—get you gone; and tell ’em, if they come, ’will be at the peril of their honour and yours.

Sir Jasp. He! he! he!—we’ll trust you for that: farewell.

[Exit.

Horn. Doctor, anon you too shall be my guest, But now I’m going to a private feast.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.—The Piazza of Covent Garden

Enter Sparkish with a letter in his hand, Pinchwife following.

Spark. But who would have thought a woman could have been false to me? By the world, I could not have thought it.

Pinch. You were for giving and taking liberty: she has taken it only, sir, now you find in that letter. You are a frank person, and so is she, you see there.