Con. You indulge your Corps, and lye naked in a warm Bed behind the Stove, and will you thrust us out of Doors to be perish'd with Cold, if the Wolves should not devour us?
Innk. Adam liv'd so in Paradise.
Con. He did so, but then he was innocent.
Innk. And so am I innocent.
Con. Perhaps so, leaving out the first Syllable. But take Care, if you thrust us out of your Paradise, lest God should not receive you into his.
Innk. Good Words, I beseech you.
Wife. Prithee, my Dear, make some Amends for all your ill Deeds by this small Kindness, let them stay in our House to Night: They are good Men, and thou'lt thrive the better for't.
Innk. Here's a Reconciler for you. I'm afraid you're agreed upon the Matter. I don't very well like to hear this good Character from a Woman; Good Men!
Wife. Phoo, there's nothing in it. But think with your self how often you have offended God with Dicing, Drinking, Brawling, Quarrelling. At least, make an Atonement for your Sins by this Act of Charity, and don't thrust these Men out of Doors, whom you would wish to be with you when you are upon your Death-Bed. You oftentimes harbour Rattles and Buffoons, and will you thrust these Men out of Doors?
Innk. What does this Petticoat-Preacher do here? Get you in, and mind your Kitchen.