_Pinch._ [_Aside._] Will nothing do?--[_Aloud._] Well, it must out then. To tell you the truth, ladies, which I was afraid to let you know before, lest it might endanger your lives, my wife has just now the small-pox come out upon her; do not be frightened; but pray be gone, ladies; you shall not stay here in danger of your lives; pray get you gone, ladies. _Lady Fid._ No, no, we have all had 'em. _Mrs. Squeam._ Alack, alack! _Mrs. Dain._ Come, come, we must see how it goes with her; I understand the disease. _Lady Fid._ Come! _Pinch._ [_Aside._] Well, there is no being too hard for women at their own weapon, lying, therefore I'll quit the field. [_Exit._ _Mrs. Squeam._ Here's an example of jealousy! _Lady Fid._ Indeed, as the world goes, I wonder there are no more jealous, since wives are so neglected. _Mrs. Dain._ Pshaw! as the world goes, to what end should they be jealous? _Lady Fid._ Foh! 'tis a nasty world. _Mrs. Squeam._ That men of parts, great acquaintance, and quality, should take up with and spend themselves and fortunes in keeping little playhouse creatures, foh! _Lady Fid._ Nay, that women of understanding, great acquaintance, and good quality, should fall a-keeping too of little creatures, foh! _Mrs. Squeam._ Why, 'tis the men of quality's fault; they never visit women of honour and reputation as they used to do; and have not so much as common civility for ladies of our rank, but use us with the same indifferency and ill-breeding as if we were all married to 'em. _Lady Fid._ She says true; 'tis an arrant shame women of quality should be so slighted; methinks birth--birth should go for something; I have known men admired, courted, and followed for their titles only. _Mrs. Squeam._ Ay, one would think men of honour should not love, no more than marry, out of their own rank. _Mrs. Dain._ Fy, fy, upon 'em! they are come to think cross breeding for themselves best, as well as for their dogs and horses. _Lady Fid._ They are dogs and horses for't. _Mrs. Squeam._ One would think, if not for love, for vanity a little. _Mrs. Dain._ Nay, they do satisfy their vanity upon us sometimes; and are kind to us in their report, tell all the world they lie with us. _Lady Fid._ Damned rascals, that we should be only wronged by 'em! To report a man has had a person, when he has not had a person, is the greatest wrong in the whole world that can be done to a person. _Mrs. Squeam._ Well, 'tis an arrant shame noble persons should be so wronged and neglected. _Lady Fid._ But still 'tis an arranter shame for a noble person to neglect her own honour, and defame her own noble person with little inconsiderable fellows, foh! _Mrs. Dain._ I suppose the crime against our honour is the same with a man of quality as with another. _Lady Fid._ How! no sure, the man of quality is likest one's husband, and therefore the fault should be the less. _Mrs. Dain._ But then the pleasure should be the less.