William Wycherley [Four Plays]

by William Wycherley

Pinch. "Makes me own to you my unfortunate, though innocent frolic, of being in man's clothes"—[She writes.

Mrs. Pinch. So—

Pinch. "That you may for evermore cease to pursue her, who hates and detests you"—[She writes on.

Mrs. Pinch. So—heigh! [Sighs.

Pinch. What, do you sigh?—"detests you—as much as she loves her husband and her honour—"

Mrs. Pinch. I vow, husband, he'll ne'er believe I should write such a letter.

Pinch. What, he'd expect a kinder from you? Come, now your name only.

Mrs. Pinch. What, shan't I say "Your most faithful humble servant till death?"

Pinch. No, tormenting fiend!—[Aside.] Her style, I find, would be very soft.—[Aloud.] Come, wrap it up now whilst I go fetch wax and a candle; and write on the backside, "For Mr. Horner." [Exit.