Horn. Who have we here? Pinchwife?
Pinch. Gentlemen, your humble servant.
Horn. 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?
Pinch. [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 to-morrow five thousand pounds to lie with my sister.
Horn. 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.
Pinch. What then?
Horn. Why, the next thing that is to be heard, is, thou'rt a cuckold.
Pinch. Insupportable name! [Aside.
Horn. But I did not expect marriage from such a whoremaster as you; one that knew the town so much, and women so well.