Alith. Where? would you not have me civil? answer 'em in a box at the plays, in the drawing-room at Whitehall, in St James'-park, Mulberry-garden, or—
Pinch. Hold, hold! Do not teach my wife where the men are to be found: I believe she's the worse for your town-documents already. I bid you keep her in ignorance, as I do.
Mrs. Pinch. Indeed, be not angry with her, bud, she will tell me nothing of the town, though I ask her a thousand times a day.
Pinch. Then you are very inquisitive to know, I find?
Mrs. Pinch. Not I indeed, dear; I hate London. Our place-house in the country is worth a thousand of't: would I were there again!
Pinch. So you shall, I warrant. But were you not talking of plays and players when I came in?—[To Alithea.] You are her encourager in such discourses.
Mrs. Pinch. No, indeed, dear; she chid me just now for liking the playermen.
Pinch. [Aside.] Nay, if she be so innocent as to own to me her liking them, there is no hurt in't.—[Aloud.] Come, my poor rogue, but thou likest none better than me?
Mrs. Pinch. Yes, indeed, but I do. The playermen are finer folks.
Pinch. But you love none better than me?