Pinch. Well then, fare you well; and play with any man's honour but mine, kiss any man's wife but mine, and welcome. [Exit.
Horn. Ha! ha! ha! doctor.
Quack. It seems, he has not heard the report of you, or does not believe it.
Horn. Ha! ha!—now, doctor, what think you?
Quack. Pray let's see the letter—hum—"for—dear—love you—" [Reads the letter.
Horn. I wonder how she could contrive it! What say'st thou to't? 'tis an original.
Quack. So are your cuckolds too originals: for they are like no other common cuckolds, and I will henceforth believe it not impossible for you to cuckold the Grand Signior amidst his guards of eunuchs, that I say.
Horn. And I say for the letter, 'tis the first love-letter that ever was without flames, darts, fates, destinies, lying and dissembling in't.
Enter Sparkish pulling in Pinchwife.
Spark. Come back, you are a pretty brother-in-law, neither go to church nor to dinner with your sister bride!