Harry.—What, Ned, do not you agree then really, and has been married but three years. Suppose she should come, what would or could she say to you?
Ned.—Dear Harry, do not desire me to tell you, for if I would, and if you should happen to tell it again, and it should come to her ears that it was I told you, I might as well run my country as stay at home.
Harry.—Ned, my service to you, upon my honour, as the gentleman says, I will never say anything of it to anybody.
Ned.—Well then, Harry, if I be out at any time, as now with you, when I go home, as soon as I get within doors she'll begin with a pretty tone she has learned off her neighbours.
"Oh! brave sir! You are a fine husband, you mind your business and shop, as you promised me before we were married: do you not, you drunken dog? you rogue, you rascal, where have you been these six hours (though it were but three), sirrah, give me account where you have been."
Harry.—Well, Ned, do you give her an account where you were, or what answer do you make her?
Ned.—All that I say to her is, "Pray, my dear, be not in such a passion, for I was with an old friend that I have not seen two or three years." "A pox on your old friend," says she, "and you too must go and fill your belly with good meat and drink, and I and my poor children starve at home, with only a little bread and cheese. A curse on the first day I saw you."
Harry.—Why, Ned, I hope your circumstances are not so low in the world, but that you can afford your wife pretty well to keep house with.
Ned.—Why, Harry, there's hardly a day but we have a joint of meat, either boiled or roasted, and I am sure she never wants for good bread, cheese, eggs, and butter.
Harry.—Pray, Ned, what does she do towards maintaining your house, does she endeavour any ways to get a penny? What portion had you with her?