William Wycherley - The Country Wife (Act 4) lyrics

ACT IV SCENE 1 (Pinchwife's Lodging) (The next morning) (Lucy, Alithea dressed in new Clothes) Lucy: Well, Madam, now have I dressed you and set you out with so many ornaments and spent upon you ounces of essence and pulvilio, and all this for no other purpose but as People adorn and perfume a Corpse, for a stinking second-hand-grave I think Master Sparkish's bed. Alithea: Hold your peace. Lucy: Nay, Madam, I will ask you the reason why you would banish poor Master Harcourt forever from your sight? How could you be so hard-hearted? Alithea: 'Twas because I was not hard-hearted. Lucy: No, no; 'twas stark love and kindness, I warrant. Alithea: I would see him no more, because I love him. Lucy: Hey day, a very pretty reason. Alithea: I was engaged to marry, you see, another man whom my justice will not suffer me to deceive or injure. Lucy: Can there be a greater cheat or wrong done to a Man than to give him your person without your heart? Alithea: I'll retrieve it for him after I am married a while. Lucy: No, Madam, marrying to increase love is like gaming to become rich. Alas you only lose what little stock you had before. Alithea: I find by your Rhetoric you have been bribed to betray me. Lucy: Only by his merit that has bribed your heart against your word and rigid honor. Alithea: Come, pray talk you no more of honor nor Master Harcourt. I wish the other would come to secure my fidelity to him and his right in me. Lucy: You will marry him then? Alithea: 'Tis Sparkish's confidence in my truth that obliges me to be so faithful to him. Lucy: You are not sure his opinion may last. Alithea: I am satisfied 'tis impossible for him to be jealous. Jealousy in a Husband begets a thousand plagues to a poor Woman, the loss of her honor, her quiet, and her . . . Lucy: O does the wind lie there? (Enter to them Sparkish, and Harcourt dressed like a Parson.) Sparkish: Madam, your humble Servant, a happy day to you and to us all. Harcourt: Amen. Alithea: Who have we here? Sparkish: My Chaplain faith---O Madam, poor Harcourt remembers his humble service to you, and in obedience to your last commands, refrains coming into your sight. Alithea: Is not that he? Sparkish: No, fie no, but to show that he never intended to hinder our Match has sent his Brother here to join our hands according to the Custom. This is his Brother and my Chaplain. Lucy: (Aside) And your Chaplain to preach in your Pulpit. Alithea: His Brother! Sparkish: Nay, I knew you would not believe it. Alithea: Believe it! Lucy: (Aside) His Brother! hah, ha, he! He has a trick left still, it seems--- Sparkish: Come my dearest, pray let us go to Church before the Canonical hour is past. Alithea: For shame you are abused still. Sparkish: Dearest of my life, hear me, I tell you this is Ned Harcourt of Cambridge. By the world, you see he has a sneaking College look. 'Tis true he's something like his Brother Frank and they differ from each other no more than in their age, for they were Twins. Lucy: Hah, ha, he. Alithea: I cannot be so deceived, though you are. But how do you know what you affirm so confidently? Sparkish: Why, I'll tell you all. Frank Harcourt, coming to me this morning to wish me joy and present his service to you, I asked him if he could help me to a Parson, whereupon he told me he had a Brother in Town who was in Orders, and he went straight away and sent him, you see there, to me. Alithea: Yes, Frank goes and puts on a black-coat then tells you he is Ned. That's all you have for it. Sparkish: Pshaw, pshaw, I tell you by the same token, the Midwife put her Garter about Frank's neck to know them asunder, they were so like. Alithea: Frank tells you this too? Sparkish: Ay, and Ned there too. Nay, they are both in a Story. Alithea: So, so, very foolish. Sparkish: Lord, if you won't believe one, you had best try him by your Chamber-maid there, for Chamber-maids must needs know Chaplains from other Men, they are so used to them. Lucy: Let's see. Nay, I'll be sworn he has the Canonical smirk, and the filthy, clammy palm of a Chaplain. Alithea: Well, most reverend Doctor, pray let us make an end of this fooling. Harcourt: With all my soul, Divine, Heavenly Creature, when you please. Alithea: He speaks like a Chaplain indeed. Sparkish: Why, was there not “soul,” “Divine,” “Heavenly,” in what he said? Alithea: I have no more patience left. Let us make an end of this troublesome Love, I say. Harcourt: So be it, Seraphic Lady, when your Honor shall think it meet and convenient so to do. Sparkish: Gad I'm sure none but a Chaplain could speak so, I think. Alithea: Let me tell you, Sir, this dull trick will not serve your turn. Though you delay our marriage, you shall not hinder it. Harcourt: Far be it from me, Munificent Patroness, to delay your Marriage. I desire nothing more than to marry you presently, which I might do if you yourself would, for my Noble, Good-natured and thrice Generous Patron here would not hinder it. Sparkish: No, poor man, not I faith. Harcourt: And now, Madam, let me tell you plainly, nobody else shall marry you. I'll die first, for I'm sure I should die after it. Alithea: That was spoken like a Chaplain too. Now you understand him, I hope. Sparkish: Poor man, he takes it heinously to be refused, but you'll pardon me, Madam, it shan't be. He shall marry us, come away, pray Madam. Alithea: Invincible stupidity, I tell you he would marry me as your Rival, not as your Chaplain. Sparkish: Come, come Madam. (Pulling her away.) 'Tis even twelve a clock, and my Mother charged me never to be married out of the Canonical hours. Come, come, Lord here's such a deal of modesty, I warrant, the first day. Lucy: Yes, and it please your Worship, married women show all their Modesty the first day, because married men show all their love the first day. (Exeunt Sparkish, Alithea, Harcourt, and Lucy.) ACT IV SCENE 2 (Pinchwife's Lodging)(Later that morning) (Pinchwife, Mrs. Pinchwife revealed) Mr. Pinchwife: Come tell me, I say. Mrs. Pinchwife: Lord, haven't I told it an hundred times over? Mr. Pinchwife: Come, how was it, Baggage? Mrs. Pinchwife: Lord, what pleasure you take to hear it sure! Mr. Pinchwife: No, you take more in telling it I find, but speak how was it? Mrs. Pinchwife: He carried me up into the house next to the Exchange. Pinchwife: So, and you two were only in the room? Mrs. Pinchwife: Yes, for he sent away a youth that was there for some dried fruit and China Oranges. Pinchwife: Did he so? Damn him for it---and for--- Mrs. Pinchwife: But presently came up the Gentlewoman of the house. Pinchwife: O 'twas well she did, but what did he do while the fruit came? Mrs. Pinchwife: He kissed me a hundred times and told me he fancied he kissed my fine Sister, meaning me you know, whom he said he loved with all his Soul and bid me be sure to tell her so and to desire her to be at her window by eleven of the clock this morning, and he would walk under it at that time. Pinchwife: (Aside) And he was as good as his word, very punctual. A pox reward him for it. Mrs. Pinchwife: Well, and he said if you were not within, he would come up to her, meaning me you know, Bud, still. Pinchwife: (Aside) So---he knew her certainly, but for this confession, I am obliged to her simplicity. (Aloud) But what you stood very still when he kissed you? Mrs. Pinchwife: Yes I warrant you, would you have had me discovered myself? Pinchwife: But you told me he did some beastliness to you, as you called it. What was it? Mrs. Pinchwife: Why, he put . . . Pinchwife: What? Mrs. Pinchwife: Why he put the tip of his tongue between my lips, and so muscled me---and I said I'd bite it. Pinchwife: An eternal canker seize it, for a dog! Mrs. Pinchwife: Nay, you need not be so angry with him neither, for to say truth, he has the sweetest breath I ever knew. Pinchwife: The Devil---you were satisfied with it then and would do it again? Mrs. Pinchwife: Not unless he should force me. Pinchwife: Force you, changeling! I tell you no woman can be forced. Mrs. Pinchwife: Yes, but she may sure by such a one as he, for he's a proper, goodly strong man. 'Tis hard, let me tell you, to resist him. Pinchwife: (Aside) So, 'tis plain she loves him, yet she has not love enough to make her conceal it from me. But the sight of him will increase her aversion for me and love for him. (Aloud Go fetch Pen, Ink and Paper out of the next room. Mrs. Pinchwife: Yes Bud. (Exit Mrs. Pinchwife.) Pinchwife: Why should Women have more invention in love than men? It can only be because they have more desires, more soliciting pa**ions, more lust, and more of the Devil. (Mistress Pinchwife returns with tray of writing materials) Come, Minx, sit down and write. Mrs. Pinchwife: But what should I write for? Pinchwife: I'll have you write a Letter to your Lover. Mrs. Pinchwife: O Lord, to the fine Gentleman a Letter! Pinchwife: Yes, to the fine Gentleman. Mrs. Pinchwife: Lord, you do but jeer. Sure you jest. Pinchwife: I am not so merry, come write as I bid you. I say take the pen and write, or you'll provoke me. Mrs. Pinchwife: Lord, what do you make a fool of me for? Don't I know that Letters are never writ but from the Country to London, and from London into the Country. Now he's in Town and I am in Town too, therefore I can't write to him, you know. Pinchwife: Yes you may when your Husband bids you write Letters to people that are in Town. Mrs. Pinchwife: O may I so! Then I'm satisfied. Pinchwife: Come begin. (Dictates) “Sir” Mrs. Pinchwife: Shan't I say, “Dear Sir?” You know one says always something more than bare “Sir.” Pinchwife: Write as I bid you, or I will write “who*e” with this knife in your Face. Mrs. Pinchwife: Nay good Bud. (She writes) “Sir.” Pinchwife: “Though I suffered last night your nauseous, loathed Kisses and Embraces . . .” Write! Mrs. Pinchwife: Nay, why should I say so? You know I told you he had a sweet breath. Pinchwife: Write. Mrs. Pinchwife: Let me but put out, “loathed.” Pinchwife: Write I say. Mrs. Pinchwife: Well then. Pinchwife: Let's see what have you writ? (Takes the paper, and reads.) “Though I suffered last night your kisses and embraces . . .” Thou impudent creature, where is “nauseous” and “loathed?” Mrs. Pinchwife: I can't abide to write such filthy words. Pinchwife: Once more write as I'd have you and question it not, or I will spoil thy writing with this. I will stab out those eyes that cause my mischief. (Holds up the knife) Mrs. Pinchwife: O Lord, I will. Pinchwife: So---so---Let's see now! (Reads.) “Though I suffered last night your nauseous, loathed kisses and embraces.” Go on, “Yet I would not have you presume that you shall ever repeat them”---So--- Mrs. Pinchwife: (She writes.) I have writ it. Pinchwife: On then---“I then concealed myself from your knowledge to avoid your insolencies . . .” Mrs. Pinchwife: (She writes.) So--- Pinchwife: “The same reason now I am out of your hands . . .” Mrs. Pinchwife: ( She writes.) So--- Pinchwife: “Makes me own to you my unfortunate, though innocent frolic of being in man's clothes.” Mrs. Pinchwife: (She writes.) So--- Pinchwife: “That you may forevermore cease to pursue her who hates and detests you . . .” Mrs. Pinchwife: (She writes on.) So---h--- (Sighs) Pinchwife: What do you sigh? “detests you as much as she loves her Husband and her Honor . . .” Mrs. Pinchwife: I vow, Husband, he'll never believe such a Letter. Pinchwife: What, he'd expect a kinder from you? Come now, your name only. Mrs. Pinchwife: What, shan't I say, “your most faithful, humble Servant till d**h?” Pinchwife: No, tormenting Fiend! Come wrap it up now while I go fetch wax and a candle. And write on the back side, “for Mr. Horner.” (Exit Pinchwife) Mrs. Pinchwife: “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 k** me . . . for I see plainly he won't let me love Mr. Horner . . . but what care I for my Husband? . . . 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 it . . . stay . . . what if I should write a Letter and wrap it up like this and write upon it too . . . ay, but then my Husband would see it . . . I don't know what to do . . . But yet I'll try, so I will . . . for I will not send this Letter to poor Mr. Horner, come what will on it. “Dear, Sweet Mr. Horner,” So . . . “my Husband would have me send you a base, rude, unmannerly Letter, but . . .” (She writes and repeats what she hath written) “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 come. 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 d**h, Margery Pinchwife.” So . . . now wrap it up just like the other, so . . . now write “for Mr. Horner” . . . But, oh, now what shall I do with it? For here comes my Husband. (Enter Pinchwife.) Pinchwife: (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. Pinchwife: Ay, ay Bud, just now. Pinchwife: Let's see it. What do you tremble for? What, you would not have it go? Mrs. Pinchwife: Here. (He opens, and reads the first Letter.) (Aside.) I had been served if I had given him this. Pinchwife: Come, where's the Wax and Seal? Mrs. Pinchwife: (Aside) Lord, what shall I do now? Nay then I have it. (Aloud) Pray let me see it, Lord you think me so errand a fool I cannot seal a Letter? I will do it, so I will. (Snatches the Letter from him, changes it for the other, seals it, and delivers it to him.) Pinchwife: 'Tis very well, but I warrant, you would not have it go now? Mrs. Pinchwife: Yes indeed, but I would, Bud, now. Pinchwife: Well you are a good Girl then. Come let me lock you up in your chamber till I come back. And be sure you come not within three strides of the window when I am gone. (Exit Mrs. Pin. Pinchwife locks the door.) If we do not cheat women, they'll cheat us. And fraud may be justly used with secret enemies, of which a Wife is the most dangerous. Now I have secured all within, I'll deal with the Foe without with false intelligence. (Holds up the Letter) (Exit Pinchwife.) ACT IV SCENE 3 (Horner's Lodging) (That Afternoon) (Quack and Horner revealed) Quack: Well Sir, how fadges the new design? Have you not the luck of all your brother Projectors to deceive only yourself at last? Horner: No, good Domine Doctor, I deceive you, it seems, and others too, for the grave Matrons and old rigid Husbands think me as unfit for love as they are. But their Wives, Sisters and Daughters know better things already. Quack: Already! Horner: Already, I say. Last night I was drunk with half a dozen of your people of Honor, and so was made free of their Society. Quack: You have made use of your time, Sir. Horner: I tell thee, I am now no more interruption to them when they sing or talk bawdy than a little squab French Page who speaks no English. Quack: But do civil persons and women of Honor drink and sing bawdy Songs? Horner: O amongst Friends, for your Bigots in Honor, are just like those in Religion. They fear the eye of the world more than the eye of Heaven. (Enter servant leading my Lady Fidget, looking about her. Exit Servant.) Now we talk of women of Honor, here comes one. Step behind the Screen here and but observe if I have not particular privileges with the women of reputation already, Doctor. Lady Fidget: Well Horner, am not I a woman of Honor? You see I'm as good as my word. Horner: And you shall see, Madam, I'll not be behind hand with you in honor, and I'll be as good as my word too, if you please but to withdraw into the next room. Lady Fidget: But first, my dear Sir, you must promise to have a care of my dear Honor. Horner: If you talk a word more of your Honor, you'll make me incapable to wrong it. Lady Fidget: But you can't blame a Lady of my reputation to be chary. Horner: Chary---I have been chary of it already, by the report I have caused of myself. Lady Fidget: Ay, but if you should ever let other women know that dear secret, it would come out. Nay, you must have a great care of your conduct, for my acquaintance are so censorious and detracting that perhaps they'll talk to the prejudice of my Honor. Horner: Nay Madam, rather than they shall prejudice your Honor, I'll prejudice theirs. And to serve you, I'll lie with them all, make the secret their own, and then they'll keep it. Lady Fidget: A secret is better kept, I hope, by a single person than a multitude, therefore pray do not trust anybody else with it, dear, dear Mr. Horner. (Embracing him.) (Enter servant leading in Sir Jaspar Fidget. Exit Servant.) Sir Jaspar: How now! Lady Fidget: (Aside) O my Husband! What shall I say? (Aloud) Sir Jaspar, come hither, I am trying if Mr. Horner were ticklish, and he's as ticklish as can be. I love to torment the confounded Toad. Let you and I tickle him. Sir Jaspar: No, your Ladyship will tickle him better without me, I suppose, but is this your buying China? I thought you had been at the China House? Horner: (Aside) China-House? That's my Cue, I must take it. (Aloud) A Pox, can't you keep your impertinent Wives at home? I'd have you to know since I cannot be your Journeyman by night, I will not be your drudge by day to squire your wife about. Sir Jaspar: heh, he, he, be not angry Horner. Lady Fidget: No, 'tis I have more reason to be angry, who am left by you to go abroad indecently alone, or to pin myself upon such ill bred people of your acquaintance as this is. Sir Jaspar: Nay, prithee what has he done? Lady Fidget: Nay, he has done nothing. Sir Jaspar: But what do you take ill, if he has done nothing? Lady Fidget: Why, the unmannerly toad knows China very well and has himself very good, but will not let me see it, lest I should beg some. But I will find it out and have what I came for yet. (Exit Lady Fidget and locks the door, followed by Horner to the door.) Horner: (Apart to Lady Fidget.) Lock the door Madam. (Aloud) So, she has got into my chamber and locked me out. Oh, the impertinency of woman-kind! Sir Jaspar: (Aside) Hah, ha, he, at my first coming in, and finding her arms about him, tickling him it seems, I was half jealous, but now I see my folly. (Aloud) Heh, he, he, poor Horner. Horner: Oh women, more impertinent, more cunning and more mischievous than their Monkeys, and to me almost as ugly---now is she throwing my things about and rifling all I have, but I'll get into her the back way, and so rifle her for it--- Sir Jaspar: Hah, ha, ha, poor angry Horner. Horner: Stay here a little. I'll ferret her out to you presently, I warrant. (Exit Horner at the other door.) Sir Jaspar: (Sir Jaspar calls through the door to his Wife, she answers from within.) Wife, my Lady Fidget, Wife, he is coming into you the back way. Lady Fidget: Let him come and welcome, which way he will. Sir Jaspar: He'll catch you and use you roughly and be too strong for you. Lady Fidget: Don't you trouble yourself, let him if he can. Quack: (Behind screen) This indeed, I could not have believed from him, nor any but my own eyes. (Enter Servant leading Mistress Squeamish. Exit Servant) Squeamish: Where's this Woman-hater, this Toad, this ugly, greasy, dirty Sloven? Where is the odious Beast? Sir Jaspar: He's within in his chamber with my Wife. She's playing the wag with him. Squeamish: Is she so? He's a clownish beast, he'll give her no quarter, he'll play the wag with her again, let me tell you. Come, let's go help her---What, the door's locked? Sir Jaspar: Ay, my Wife locked it. Squeamish: Did she so, let us break it open then! Sir Jaspar: No, no, he'll do her no hurt. Squeamish: No---(Exit Squeamish at another door.) But is there no other way to get into them? Whither goes this? I will disturb them. (Enter Servant leading old Lady Squeamish. Exit Servant) Old L. Squeamish: Where is this Harlotry, this Impudent Baggage, this rambling Tomrigg? O Sir Jaspar, I'm glad to see you here. Did you not see my vild Grandchild come in hither just now? Sir Jaspar: Yes. Old L. Squeamish: Ay, but where is she then? Where is she? Lord, Sir Jaspar I have rattled myself to pieces in pursuit of her, but can you tell what she makes here? They say below no woman lodges here. Sir Jaspar: No, nor no man neither. This is Mr. Horner's Lodging. Old L. Squeamish: Is it so are you sure? Sir Jaspar: Yes, yes. Old L. Squeamish: So then there's no hurt in it, I hope. But where is he? Sir Jaspar: He's in the next room with my Wife. Old L. Squeamish: Nay if you trust him with your wife, I may with my Biddy. They say he's a merry harmless man now. (Enter Mrs. Squeamish) Squeamish: I can't find them---Oh are you here, Grandmother? I followed my Lady Fidget hither. 'Tis the prettiest lodging, and I have been staring on the prettiest Pictures. (Enter Lady Fidget with a piece of China in her hand, and Horner following.) Lady Fidget: And I have been toiling and moiling for the prettiest piece of China, my Dear. Horner: Nay, she has been too hard for me, do what I could. Squeamish: Oh Lord I'll have some China too, good Mr. Horner. Don't think to give other people China and me none. Come in with me too. Horner: Upon my honor I have none left now. Squeamish: Nay, nay I have known you deny your China before now, but you shan't put me off so, come . . . Horner: This Lady had the last there. Lady Fidget: Yes indeed, Madam, to my certain knowledge he has no more left. Squeamish: O but it may be he may have some you could not find. Lady Fidget: What do you think if he had had any left, I would not have had it too? For we women of quality never think we have China enough. Horner: Do not take it ill. I cannot make China for you all, but I will have a Roll-wagon for you too, another time. Old L. Squeamish: Poor Mr. Horner, he has enough to do to please you all, I see. Horner: Ay Madam, you see how they use me. Old L. Squeamish: Poor Gentleman, I pity you. Horner: I thank you Madam, I could never find pity but from such reverend Ladies as you are. The young ones will never spare a man. Squeamish: Come come, Beast, and go dine with us, for we shall want a man at Hombre after dinner. Horner: That's all their use of me, Madam, you see. Squeamish: Come Sloven, I'll lead you to be sure of you. (Pulls him by the Cravat.) Old L. Squeamish: Alas, poor man, how she tugs him. Kiss, kiss her. That's the way to make such nice women quiet. Horner: No Madam, they know I dare suffer any thing rather than do it. Old L. Squeamish: Prithee, kiss her and I'll give you her Picture that you admired so last night. Horner: Well, nothing but that could bribe me. I love a woman only in Effigy. I'll do it. (Kisses Mrs. Squeam.) Squeamish: Foh, you filthy Toad, nay now I've done jesting. Old L. Squeamish: Ha, ha, ha, I told you so. Squeamish: Foh a kiss of his--- Sir Jaspar: Has no more hurt in it than one of my Spaniels. Quack: (Behind screen) I will now believe anything he tells me. (Enter Servant leading Mr. Pinchwife. Exit Servant) Lady Fidget: O Lord here's a man, Sir JaSpar. Let's be gone. Squeamish: Oh, Grandmother, let us be gone. I know not how he may censure us. Lady Fidget: Found in the lodging of anything like a man, away. (Exeunt Sir Jaspar, Lady Fidget, Old L. Squeamish, Mrs. Squeamish.) Quack: (Behind screen) What's here, another Cuckold? He looks like one. Horner: Well, what brings my dear friend hither? Pinchwife: Your impertinency. Horner: 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. Pinchwife: No Sir, I'll never trust you any way. Horner: Haven't I been always thy friend honest Jack, always ready to serve thee in love or battle? Pinchwife: I believe so you would be my second now, indeed. Horner: Well, then dear Jack, why so unkind, so grum, so strange to me? Come, prithee, kiss me dear Rogue. Pinchwife: What you would send a kiss to my Wife, is that it? Horner: So there 'tis---a man can't show his friendship to a married man. Pinchwife: You ought to be kind and civil to me, since I am so kind as to bring you this. Look you there Sir. (Delivers him a Letter) Horner: What is it? Pinchwife: Only a Love Letter, Sir. Horner: From whom---(Reads) How, this is from your Wife---hum---and hum---(Aside) Ha, is this a trick of his or hers? (Aloud.) But what should this mean? (Aside) Stay the Postscript. “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 k** my Squirrel.” It seems he knows not what the Letter contains. Pinchwife: Come, never wonder at it so much. Horner: Faith, I can't help it. Pinchwife: I must tell you, Sir, my honor will suffer no jesting. Horner: What do you mean? Pinchwife: Does the Letter want a Comment? Then know, Sir, I will not be a Cuckold Sir, I will not. Horner: Thou art mad with jealousy. I never saw thy Wife in my life but at the Play yesterday, and I know not if it were she or no. Pinchwife: I will not be a Cuckold, I say. There will be danger in making me a Cuckold. Horner: Why, wert thou not well cured of thy last clap? Pinchwife: I wear a Sword. Horner: It should be taken from thee, lest thou should do thyself a mischief with it. Thou art mad, Man. Pinchwife: As mad as I am, as she confesses in her Letter, both she and I say you have mistaken your woman as you have done your man. Horner: (Aside) I understand something now. (Aloud) Was that thy Wife? Faith, my freedom with her was your fault, not mine. Fie, I'd never do it to a woman before her husband's face, sure. Well, I must be contented with what she writes. Pinchwife: I'll a**ure you 'twas voluntarily writ. I had no hand in it, you may believe me. Horner: I do believe thee, faith. Pinchwife: And believe her too. And so fare you well, Sir. Horner: Pray, however, present my humble service to her and tell her I will obey her Letter to a tittle and fulfill her desires, be what they will or with what difficulty soever I do it. Pinchwife: Well, then fare you well, and play with any man's honor but mine, kiss any man's wife but mine, and welcome--- (Exit Mr. Pinch.) Horner: Ha, ha, ha, Doctor. Quack: It seems he has not heard the report of you, or does not believe it. Horner: Ha, ha, now Doctor what think you? Quack: Pray, let's see the Letter---(Reads the Letter) hum---for--- dear---love you--- Horner: I wonder how she could contrive it! What say thou to it? Quack: I will henceforth believe it not impossible for you to Cuckold the Grand Signior amidst his Guards of Eunuchs. (Enter Sparkish pulling in Mr. Pinchwife. Quack hides behind screen again.) Sparkish: Come back, you are a pretty Brother-in-law, neither go to Church nor to dinner with your Sister Bride. Pinchwife: My Sister denies her marriage, and you see is gone away from you dissatisfied. Sparkish: Pshaw, upon a foolish scruple that our Parson was not in lawful Orders and did not say all the Common Prayer. But 'tis her modesty only, I believe. In the meantime, Harry Horner, you must dine with me. I keep my wedding at my Aunt's in the Piazza. Horner: Thy wedding? What stale Maid has lived to despair of a husband? Sparkish: O your Servant Sir---this Gentleman's Sister, then. No stale Maid. Horner: I'm sorry for it. Pinchwife: (Aside) How comes he so concerned for her. Sparkish: You sorry for it? Why, do you know any ill by her? Horner: No, I know none but by thee. 'Tis for her sake, not yours, and another man that might have hoped, I thought. Sparkish: Another Man, another man, what is his Name? Horner: Nay since 'tis past, he shall be nameless. Pinchwife: (Aside) He seems to be much troubled at the match. Sparkish: Prithee tell me---nay you shan't go Brother. Pinchwife: I must of necessity, but I'll come to you to dinner. (Exit Pinchwife.) Horner: But who dines with thee? Sparkish: My Friends and Relations, my Brother Pinchwife. Horner: And his Wife. Sparkish: No gad, he'll never let her come amongst us good fellows. Your stingy country Coxcomb keeps his wife from his friends as he does his little Firkin of Ale for his own drinking. Ha, ha, ha, gad, I am witty, I think, considering I was married today, by the world, but come--- Horner: No, I will not dine with you unless you can fetch her too. Sparkish: Pshaw, what pleasure can thou have with women now, Harry? Horner: My eyes are not gone, I love a good prospect yet and will not dine with you unless she does too. Go fetch her therefore, but do not tell her husband. 'Tis for my sake. Sparkish: Well I'll go try what I can do. In the meantime, come away to my Aunt's lodging. „Tis in the way to Pinchwife's. (Exit) Horner: The poor woman has called for aid and stretched forth her hand, Doctor. I cannot but help her over the Pale out of the Briars. (Exeunt Sparkish, Horner, Quack.) ACT IV SCENE 4 (Pinchwife's Lodging) (Later that afternoon) (Mrs. Pinchwife revealed alone leaning on her elbow. A Table, Pen, Ink, and Paper) Mrs. Pinchwife: Well 'tis even so, I have got the London disease they call Love. I am sick of my Husband and for my Gallant. I have heard this distemper called a Fever, for when I think of my Husband, I tremble and am in a cold sweat and have inclinations to vomit. But when I think of my Gallant, dear Mr. Horner, my hot fit comes and I am all in a Fever, indeed, and as in other Fevers, my own Chamber is tedious to me and I would fain be removed to his, and then methinks I should be well. Ah poor Mr. Horner, well, I cannot, will not stay here, therefore I'll make an end of my Letter to him which shall be a finer Letter than my last, because I have studied it like anything. O Sick, Sick! (Takes the Pen and writes) (Enter Mr. Pinchwife who, seeing her writing, steals softly behind her, and looking over her shoulder, snatches the paper from her.) Pinchwife: What, writing more Letters? Mrs. Pinchwife: O Lord, Bud, why do you fright me so? (She offers to run out: he stops her, and reads) Pinchwife: How's this! Nay, you shall not stir Madam. (Reads) “Dear, Dear, dear, Mr. Horner.” Very well, I have taught you to write Letters to good purpose. But let's see it. “First I am to beg your pardon for my boldness in writing to you, which I'd have you to know, I would not have done had not you said first you loved me so extremely, which if you do, you will never suffer me to lie in the arms of another man whom I loathe. nauseate, and detest,” Now you can write these filthy words! But what follows? “Therefore I hope you will speedily find some way to free me from this unfortunate match which was never, I a**ure you, of my choice, but I'm afraid 'tis already too far gone. However, if you love me, as I do you, you will try what you can do, but you must help me away before tomorrow, or else, alas, I shall be forever out of your reach, for I can defer no longer our . . .” What is to follow? Speak! What? “our Journey into . . .” the Country I suppose! Oh, Woman, damned Woman, and Love, damned Love! But make an end of your Letter, and then I'll make an end of you thus, and all my plagues together. (Draws his Sword.) Mrs. Pinchwife: O Lord, O Lord you are such a Pa**ionate Man, Bud. (Enter Lucy leading Sparkish. Exit Lucy) Sparkish: How now, what's here to do? Pinchwife: This Fool here now! Sparkish: What drawn upon your Wife? You should never do that but at night in the dark when you can't hurt her. This is my Sister-in-Law, is it not? Ay faith our Country Margery, one may know her. Come, she and you must go dine with me. Dinner's ready, come. But where's my Wife? Where is she? Pinchwife: Making you a Cuckold, 'tis that they all do as soon as they can. Sparkish: What, the Wedding day? No, a Wife that designs to make a Cully of her Husband will be sure to let him win the first stake of love, by the world. But come, they stay dinner for us, come I'll lead down our Margery. Pinchwife: No I'll lead her my way. What, would you treat your friends with mine, for want of your own Wife? (Leads her to the other door and locks her in and returns.) Sparkish: Lord, how shy you are of your Wife. But let me tell you, Brother, Cuckolding, like the small Pox, comes with a fear, and you may keep your Wife as much as you will out of danger of infection, but if her constitution incline her to it, she'll have it sooner or later by the world. Pinchwife: (Aside) What a thing is a Cuckold that every fool can make him ridiculous. (Aloud) Well Sir, but let me advise you not to neglect the means to prevent it, for--- Howsoever the kind Wife's Belly comes to swell, The Husband breeds for her, and first is ill.