Enter Boy.
Boy. Sir Jasper Fidget, sir, is coming up. [Exit.
Horn. Here's the trouble of a cuckold now we are talking of. A pox on him! has he not enough to do to hinder his wife's sport, but he must other women's too?—Step in here, madam. [Exit Mrs. Pinchwife.
Enter Sir Jasper Fidget.
Sir Jasp. My best and dearest friend.
Horn. [Aside to Quack.] The old style, doctor.—[Aloud.] Well, be short, for I am busy. What would your impertinent wife have now?
Sir Jasp. Well guessed, i'faith; for I do come from her.
Horn. To invite me to supper! Tell her, I can't come; go.
Sir Jasp. Nay, now you are out, faith; for my lady, and the whole knot of the virtuous gang, as they call themselves, are resolved upon a frolic of coming to you to-night in masquerade, and are all dressed already.
Horn. I shan't be at home.