and has been there a fortnight. Dorilant A pox! I can hear no more, prithee. Horner No, hear him out; let him tune his crowd a while. Harcourt The worst music, the greatest preparation. Sparkish Nay, faith, I’ll make you laugh.⁠—It cannot be, says a third lady.⁠—Yes, yes, quoth I again.⁠—Says a fourth lady⁠— Horner Look to’t, we’ll have no more ladies. Sparkish No⁠—then mark, mark, now. Said I to the fourth, Did you never see Mr. Horner? he lodges in Russel-street, and he’s a sign of a man, you know, since he came out of France; ha! ha! ha! Horner But the devil take me if thine be the sign of a jest. Sparkish With that they all fell a-laughing, till they bepissed themselves. What, but it does not move you, methinks? Well, I see one had as good go to law without a witness, as break a jest without a laugher on one’s side.⁠—Come, come, sparks, but where do we dine? I have left at Whitehall an earl, to dine with you. Dorilant Why, I thought thou hadst loved a man with a title, better than a suit with a French trimming to’t. Harcourt Go to him again. Sparkish No, sir, a wit to me is the greatest title in the world. Horner But go dine with your earl, sir; he may be exception. We are your friends, and will not take it ill to be left, I do assure you. Harcourt Nay, faith, he shall go to him. Sparkish Nay, pray, gentlemen. Dorilant We’ll thrust you out, if you won’t; what, disappoint anybody for us? Sparkish Nay, dear gentlemen, hear me. Horner No, no, sir, by no means; pray go, sir. Sparkish Why, dear rogues⁠— Dorilant No, no. They all thrust him out of the room. All Ha! ha! ha! Re-enter Sparkish. Sparkish But, sparks, pray hear me. What, d’ye think I’ll eat then with gay shallow fops and silent coxcombs? I think wit as necessary at dinner, as a glass of good wine; and that’s the reason I never have any stomach when I eat alone.⁠—Come, but where do we dine? Horner Even where you will. Sparkish At Chateline’s? Dorilant Yes, if you will. Sparkish Or at the Cock? 5 Dorilant Yes, if you please. Sparkish Or at the Dog and Partridge? Horner Ay, if you have a mind to’t; for we shall dine at neither. Sparkish Pshaw! with your fooling we shall lose the new play; and I would no more miss seeing a new play the first day, than I would miss sitting in the wit’s row. Therefore I’ll go fetch my mistress, and away. Exit. Enter Pinchwife. Horner Who have we here? Pinchwife? Pinchwife Gentlemen, your humble servant. Horner Well, Jack, by thy long absence from the town, the grumness of thy countenance, and the slovenliness of thy habit, I should give thee joy, should I not, of marriage? Pinchwife Aside. Death! does he know I’m married too? I thought to have concealed it from him at least.⁠—Aloud. My long stay in the country will excuse my dress; and I have a suit of law that brings me up to town, that puts me out of humour. Besides, I must give Sparkish tomorrow five thousand pounds to lie with my sister. Horner Nay, you country gentlemen, rather than not purchase, will buy anything; and he is a cracked title, if we may quibble. Well, but am I to give thee joy? I heard thou wert married. Pinchwife What then? Horner Why, the next thing that is to be heard, is, thou’rt a cuckold. Pinchwife Insupportable name! Aside. Horner But I did not expect marriage from such a whoremaster as you; one that knew the town so much, and women so well. Pinchwife Why, I have married no London wife. Horner Pshaw! that’s all one. That grave circumspection in marrying a country wife, is like refusing a deceitful pampered Smithfield jade, to go and be cheated by a friend in the country. Pinchwife Aside. A pox on him and his simile!⁠—Aloud. At least we are a little surer of the breed there, know what her keeping has been, whether foiled or unsound. Horner Come, come, I have known a clap gotten in Wales; and there are cousins, justices’ clerks, and chaplains in the country, I won’t say coachmen. But she’s handsome and young? Pinchwife Aside. I’ll answer as I should do.⁠—Aloud. No, no; she has no beauty but her youth, no attraction but her modesty: wholesome, homely, and huswifely; that’s all. Dorilant He talks as like a grazier as he looks. Pinchwife She’s too awkward, ill-favoured, and silly to bring to town. Harcourt Then methinks you should bring her to be taught breeding. Pinchwife To be taught! no, sir, I thank you. Good wives and private soldiers should be ignorant⁠—I’ll keep her from your instructions, I warrant you. Harcourt The rogue is as jealous as if his wife were not ignorant. Aside. Horner Why, if she be ill-favoured, there will be less danger here for you than by leaving her in the country. We have such variety of dainties that we are seldom hungry. Dorilant But they have always coarse, constant, swingeing stomachs in the country. Harcourt Foul feeders indeed! Dorilant And your hospitality is great there. Harcourt Open house; every man’s welcome. Pinchwife So, so, gentlemen. Horner But prithee, why shouldst thou marry her? If she be ugly, ill-bred, and silly, she must be rich then. Pinchwife As rich as if she brought me twenty thousand pound out of this town; for she’ll be as sure not to spend her moderate portion, as a London baggage would be to spend hers, let it be what it would: so ’tis all one. Then, because she’s ugly, she’s the likelier to be my own; and being ill-bred, she’ll hate conversation; and since silly and innocent, will not know the difference betwixt a man of one-and-twenty and one of forty. Horner Nine⁠—to my knowledge. But if she be silly, she’ll expect as much from a man of forty-nine, as from him of one-and-twenty. But methinks wit is more necessary than beauty; and I think no young woman ugly that has it, and no handsome woman agreeable without it. Pinchwife ’Tis my maxim, he’s