SCENE I.--_A Room in_ PINCHWIFE'S _House.

_Enter_ ALITHEA _and_ Mrs. PINCHWIFE.

_Alith._ Sister, what ails you? you are grown melancholy.

_Mrs. Pinch._ Would it not make any one melancholy to see you go every day fluttering about abroad, whilst I must stay at home like a poor lonely sullen bird in a cage?

_Alith._ Ay, sister; but you came young, and just from the nest to your cage: so that I thought you liked it, and could be as cheerful in't as others that took their flight themselves early, and are hopping abroad in the open air.

_Mrs. Pinch._ Nay, I confess I was quiet enough till my husband told me what pure lives the London ladies live abroad, with their dancing, meetings, and junketings, and dressed every day in their best gowns; and I warrant you, play at nine-pins every day of the week, so they do.

_Enter_ PINCHWIFE.

_Pinch._ Come, what's here to do? you are putting the town-pleasures in her head, and setting her a-longing.

_Alith._ Yes, after nine-pins. You suffer none to give her those longings you mean but yourself.

_Pinch._ I tell her of the vanities of the town like a confessor.

_Alith._ A confessor! just such a confessor as he that, by forbidding a silly ostler to grease the horse's teeth, taught him to do't.

_Pinch._ Come, Mrs. Flippant, good precepts are lost when bad examples are still before us: the liberty you take abroad makes her hanker after it, and out of humour at home. Poor wretch! she desired not to come to London; I would bring her.

_Alith._ Very well.

_Pinch._ She has been this week in town, and never desired till this afternoon to go abroad.

_Alith._ Was she not at a play yesterday?

_Pinch._ Yes; but she ne'er asked me; I was myself the cause of her going.

_Alith._ Then if she ask you again, you are the cause of her asking, and not my example.

_Pinch._ Well, to-morrow night I shall be rid of you; and the next day, before 'tis light, she and I'll be rid of the town, and my dreadful apprehensions.--Come, be not melancholy; for thou sha't go into the country after to-morrow, dearest.

_Alith._ Great comfort!

_Mrs. Pinch._ Pish! what d'ye tell me of the country for?

_Pinch._ How's this! what, pish at the country?

_Mrs. Pinch._ Let me alone; I am not well.

_Pinch._ O, if that be all--what ails my dearest?

_Mrs. Pinch._ Truly, I don't know: but I have not been well since you told me there was a gallant at the play in love with me.

_Pinch._ Ha!--

_Alith._ That's by my example too!

_Pinch._ Nay, if you are not well, but are so concerned, because a lewd fellow chanced to lie, and say he liked you, you'll make me sick too.

_Mrs. Pinch._ Of what sickness?

_Pinch._ O, of that which is worse than the plague, jealousy.

_Mrs. Pinch._ Pish, you jeer! I'm sure there's no such disease in our receipt-book at home.

_Pinch._ No, thou never met'st with it, poor innocent.--Well, if thou cuckold me, 'twill be my own fault--for cuckolds and bastards are generally makers of their own fortune. [_Aside._

_Mrs. Pinch._ Well, but pray, bud, let's go to a play to-night.

_Pinch._ 'Tis just done, she comes from it. But why are you so eager to see a play?

_Mrs. Pinch._ Faith, dear, not that I care one pin for their talk there; but I like to look upon the player-men, and would see, if I could, the gallant you say loves me: that's all, dear bud.

_Pinch._ Is that all, dear bud?

_Alith._ This proceeds from my example!

_Mrs. Pinch._ But if the play be done, let's go abroad, however, dear bud.

_Pinch._ Come have a little patience and thou shalt go into the country on Friday.

_Mrs. Pinch._ Therefore I would see first some sights to tell my neighbours of. Nay, I will go abroad, that's once.

_Alith._ I'm the cause of this desire too!

_Pinch._ But now I think on't, who, who was the cause of Horner's coming to my lodgings to-day? That was you.

_Alith._ No, you, because you would not let him see your handsome wife out of your lodging.

_Mrs. Pinch._ Why, O Lord! did the gentleman come hither to see me indeed?

_Pinch._ No, no.--You are not the cause of that damned question too, Mistress Alithea?--[_Aside._] Well, she's in the right of it. He is in love with my wife--and comes after her--'tis so--but I'll nip his love in the bud; lest he should follow us into the country, and break his chariot-wheel near our house, on purpose for an excuse to come to't. But I think I know the town.

_Mrs. Pinch._ Come, pray, bud, let's go abroad before 'tis late; for I will go, that's flat and plain.

_Pinch._ [_Aside._] So! the obstinacy already of the town-wife; and I must, whilst she's here, humour her like one.--[_Aloud._] Sister, how shall we do, that she may not be seen, or known?

_Alith._ Let her put on her mask.

_Pinch._ Pshaw! a mask makes people but the more inquisitive, and is as ridiculous a disguise as a stage-beard: her shape, stature, habit will be known. And if we should meet with Horner, he would be sure to take acquaintance with us, must wish her joy, kiss her, talk to her, leer upon her, and the devil and all. No, I'll not use her to a mask, 'tis dangerous; for masks have made more cuckolds than the best faces that ever were known.

_Alith._ How will you do then?

_Mrs. Pinch._ Nay, shall we go? The Exchange will be shut, and I have a mind to see that.

_Pinch._ So--I have it--I'll dress her up in the suit we are to carry down to her brother, little Sir James; nay, I understand the town-tricks. Come, let's go dress her. A mask! no--a woman masked, like a covered dish, gives a man curiosity and appetite; when, it may be, uncovered, 'twould turn his stomach: no, no.

_Alith._ Indeed your comparison is something a greasy one: but I had a gentle gallant used to say, A beauty masked, like the sun in eclipse, gathers together more gazers than if it shined out. [_Exeunt._