Pinch. What?
Horn. Nothing but the usual question, man: is she sound, on thy word?
Pinch. What, you take her for a wench, and me for a pimp?
Horn. Pshaw! wench and pimp, paw[82] words; I know thou art an honest fellow, and hast a great acquaintance among the ladies, and perhaps hast made love for me, rather than let me make love to thy wife.
Pinch. Come, sir, in short, I am for no fooling.
Horn. Nor I neither: therefore prithee, let's see her face presently. Make her show, man: art thou sure I don't know her?
Pinch. I am sure you do know her.
Horn. A pox! why dost thou bring her to me then?
Pinch. Because she's a relation of mine—
Horn. Is she, faith, man? then thou art still more civil and obliging, dear rogue.