_Horn._ Well then, dear Jack, why so unkind, so grum, so strange to me? Come, prithee kiss me, dear rogue: gad I was always, I say, and am still as much thy servant as-- _Pinch._ As I am yours, sir. What, you would send a kiss to my wife, is that it? _Horn._ So, there 'tis--a man can't show his friendship to a married man, but presently he talks of his wife to you. Prithee, let thy wife alone, and let thee and I be all one, as we were wont. What, thou art as shy of my kindness, as a Lombard-street alderman of a courtier's civility at Locket's![80] _Pinch._ But you are over-kind to me, as kind as if I were your cuckold already; yet I must confess you ought to be kind and civil to me, since I am so kind, so civil to you, as to bring you this: look you there, sir. [_Delivers him a letter._ _Horn._ What is't? _Pinch._ Only a love-letter, sir. _Horn._ From whom?--how! this is from your wife--hum--and hum--[_Reads._ _Pinch._ Even from my wife, sir: am I not wondrous kind and civil to you now too?--[_Aside._] But you'll not think her so. _Horn._ Ha! is this a trick of his or hers? [_Aside._ _Pinch._ The gentleman's surprised I find.--What, you expected a kinder letter? _Horn._ No faith, not I, how could I? _Pinch._ Yes, yes, I'm sure you did. A man so well made as you are, must needs be disappointed, if the women declare not their passion at first sight or opportunity. _Horn._ [_Aside._] But what should this mean? Stay, the postscript.--[_Reads aside._] "Be sure you love me, whatsoever my husband says to the contrary, and let him not see this, lest he should come home and pinch me, or kill my squirrel."--It seems he knows not what the letter contains. _Pinch._ Come, ne'er wonder at it so much. _Horn._ Faith, I can't help it. _Pinch._ Now, I think I have deserved your infinite friendship and kindness, and have showed myself sufficiently an obliging kind friend and husband; am I not so, to bring a letter from my wife to her gallant? _Horn._ Ay, the devil take me, art thou, the most obliging, kind friend and husband in the world, ha! ha! _Pinch._ Well, you may be merry, sir; but in short I must tell you, sir, my honour will suffer no jesting. _Horn._ What dost thou mean? _Pinch._ Does the letter want a comment? Then, know, sir, though I have been so civil a husband, as to bring you a letter from my wife, to let you kiss and court her to my face, I will not be a cuckold, sir, I will not. _Horn._ Thou art mad with jealousy. I never saw thy wife in my life but at the play yesterday, and I know not if it were she or no. I court her, kiss her! _Pinch._ I will not be a cuckold, I say; there will be danger in making me a cuckold. _Horn._ Why, wert thou not well cured of thy last clap? _Pinch._ I wear a sword. _Horn._ It should be taken from thee, lest thou shouldst do thyself a mischief with it; thou art mad, man.