Sir J. Sir, my name’s Mary.

Just. Ay, but your surname, madam.

Sir J. Sir, my surname’s the very same with my husband’s.

Just. A strange woman this! Who is your husband, pray?

Sir J. Sir John—

Just. Sir John who?

Sir J. Sir John Brute.

Just. Is it possible, madam, you can be my Lady Brute?

Sir J. That happy woman, sir, am I; only a little in my merriment to-night.

Just. I am concerned for Sir John.

Sir J. Truly, so am I.

Just. I have heard he is an honest gentleman.

Sir J. As ever drank.

Just. Good lack! Indeed, lady, I’m sorry he has such a wife.

Sir J. I am sorry he has any wife at all.

Just. And so, perhaps, may he. I doubt you have not given him a very good taste of matrimony.

Sir J. Taste, sir! I have scorned to stint him to a taste; I have given him a full meal of it.

Just. Indeed, I believe so. But, pray, fair lady, may he have given you any occasion for this extraordinary conduct? does he not use you well?

Sir J. A little upon the rough sometimes.

Just. Ay, any man may be out of humour now and then.

Sir J. Sir, I love peace and quiet; and when a woman don’t find that at home, she’s apt, sometimes, to comfort herself with a few innocent diversions abroad.

Just. A strange woman this! Does he spend a reasonable portion of his time at home, to the comfort of his wife and children?

Sir J. He never gave his wife cause to repine at his being abroad in his life.

Just. Pray, madam, how may he be in the grand matrimonial point. Is he true to your bed?

Sir J. Sir!

Just. Is he true to your bed?