MRS. FRAIL. Well, what if I took twenty—I warrant if you had been there, it had been only innocent recreation. Lord, where’s the comfort of this life if we can’t have the happiness of conversing where we like? MRS. FORE. But can’t you converse at home? I own it, I think there’s no happiness like conversing with an agreeable man; I don’t quarrel at that, nor I don’t think but your conversation was very innocent; but the place is public, and to be seen with a man in a hackney coach is scandalous. What if anybody else should have seen you alight, as I did? How can anybody be happy while they’re in perpetual fear of being seen and censured? Besides, it would not only reflect upon you, sister, but me. MRS. FRAIL. Pooh, here’s a clutter: why should it reflect upon you? I don’t doubt but you have thought yourself happy in a hackney coach before now. If I had gone to Knight’s Bridge, or to Chelsea, or to Spring Garden, or Barn Elms with a man alone, something might have been said. MRS. FORE. Why, was I ever in any of those places? What do you mean, sister? MRS. FRAIL. Was I? What do you mean? MRS. FORE. You have been at a worse place. MRS. FRAIL. I at a worse place, and with a man! MRS. FORE. I suppose you would not go alone to the World’s End. MRS. FRAIL. The World’s End! What, do you mean to banter me? MRS. FORE. Poor innocent! You don’t know that there’s a place called the World’s End? I’ll swear you can keep your countenance purely: you’d make an admirable player. MRS. FRAIL. I’ll swear you have a great deal of confidence, and in my mind too much for the stage. MRS. FORE. Very well, that will appear who has most; you never were at the World’s End? MRS. FRAIL. No. MRS. FORE. You deny it positively to my face? MRS. FRAIL. Your face, what’s your face? MRS. FORE. No matter for that, it’s as good a face as yours. MRS. FRAIL. Not by a dozen years’ wearing. But I do deny it positively to your face, then. MRS. FORE. I’ll allow you now to find fault with my face; for I’ll swear your impudence has put me out of countenance. But look you here now, where did you lose this gold bodkin? Oh, sister, sister! MRS. FRAIL. My bodkin! MRS. FORE. Nay, ’tis yours, look at it. MRS. FRAIL. Well, if you go to that, where did you find this bodkin? Oh, sister, sister! Sister every way. MRS. FORE. Oh, devil on’t, that I could not discover her without betraying myself. [_Aside_.] MRS. FRAIL. I have heard gentlemen say, sister, that one should take great care, when one makes a thrust in fencing, not to lie open oneself. MRS. FORE. It’s very true, sister. Well, since all’s out, and as you say, since we are both wounded, let us do what is often done in duels, take care of one another, and grow better friends than before. MRS. FRAIL. With all my heart: ours are but slight flesh wounds, and if we keep ’em from air, not at all dangerous. Well, give me your hand in token of sisterly secrecy and affection.