Pinch. Gone, gone, not to be found! quite gone! ten thousand plagues go with 'em! Which way went they?
Alith. But into t'other walk, brother.
Lucy. Their business will be done presently sure, an't please your worship; it can't be long in doing, I'm sure on't.
Alith. Are they not there?
Pinch. No, you know where they are, you infamous wretch, eternal shame of your family, which you do not dishonour enough yourself you think, but you must help her to do it too, thou legion of bawds!
Alith. Good brother—
Pinch. Damned, damned sister!
Alith. Look you here, she's coming.
Re-enter Mrs. Pinchwife running, with her hat full of oranges and dried fruit under her arm, Horner following.