Spark. And because I will not disparage my parts, I'll ne'er be one.
Horn. And I, alas! can't be one.
Pinch. But I must be one—against my will to a country wife, with a country murrain to me!
Mrs. Pinch. And I must be a country wife still too, I find; for I can't, like a city one, be rid of my musty husband, and do what I list. [Aside.
Horn. Now, sir, I must pronounce your wife innocent, though I blush whilst I do it; and I am the only man by her now exposed to shame, which I will straight drown in wine, as you shall your suspicion; and the ladies' troubles we'll divert with a ballad.—Doctor, where are your maskers?
Lucy. Indeed, she's innocent, sir, I am her witness, and her end of coming out was but to see her sister's wedding; and what she has said to your face of her love to Mr. Horner, was but the usual innocent revenge on a husband's jealousy;—was it not, madam, speak?
Mrs. Pinch. [Aside to Lucy and Horner.] Since you'll have me tell more lies—[Aloud.] Yes, indeed, bud.
Pinch.
For my own sake fain I would all believe;
Cuckolds, like lovers, should themselves deceive.
But—[Sighs
His honour is least safe (too late I find)
Who trusts it with a foolish wife or friend.
A Dance of Cuckolds.