Mrs. Squeam. And that demureness, coyness, and modesty, that you see in our faces in the boxes at plays, is as much a sign of a kind woman, as a vizard-mask in the pit.
Mrs. Dain. For, I assure you, women are least masked when they have the velvet vizard on.
L. Fid. You would have found us modest women in our denials only.
Mrs. Squeam. Our bashfulness is only the reflection of the men's.
Mrs. Dain. We blush when they are shamefaced.
Horn. I beg your pardon, ladies, I was deceived in you devilishly. But why that mighty pretence to honour?
L. Fid. We have told you; but sometimes 'twas for the same reason you men pretend business often, to avoid ill company, to enjoy the better and more privately those you love.
Horn. But why would you ne'er give a friend a wink then?
L. Fid. Faith, your reputation frightened us, as much as ours did you, you were so notoriously lewd.
Horn. And you so seemingly honest.