_L. Squeam._ What, then all's right again? _Sir Jasp._ Ay, ay, and now let us satisfy him too. [_They whisper with_ PINCHWIFE. _Pinch._ An eunuch! Pray, no fooling with me. _Quack._ I'll bring half the chirurgeons in town to swear it. _Pinch._ They!--they'll swear a man that bled to death through his wounds, died of an apoplexy. _Quack._ Pray, hear me, sir--why, all the town has heard the report of him. _Pinch._ But does all the town believe it? _Quack._ Pray, inquire a little, and first of all these. _Pinch._ I'm sure when I left the town, he was the lewdest fellow in't. _Quack._ I tell you, sir, he has been in France since; pray, ask but these ladies and gentlemen, your friend Mr. Dorilant. Gentlemen and ladies, han't you all heard the late sad report of poor Mr. Horner? _All the Ladies._ Ay, ay, ay. _Dor._ Why, thou jealous fool, dost thou doubt it? he's an arrant French capon. _Mrs. Pinch._ 'Tis false, sir, you shall not disparage poor Mr. Horner, for to my certain knowledge-- _Lucy._ O, hold! _Mrs. Squeam._ Stop her mouth! [_Aside to_ LUCY. _L. Fid._ Upon my honour, sir, 'tis as true--[_To_ PINCHWIFE. _Mrs. Dain._ D'ye think we would have been seen in his company? _Mrs. Squeam._ Trust our unspotted reputations with him? _L. Fid._ This you get, and we too, by trusting your secret to a fool. [_Aside to_ HORNER. _Horn._ Peace, madam.--[_Aside to_ Quack.] Well, doctor, is not this a good design, that carries a man on unsuspected, and brings him off safe? _Pinch._ Well, if this were true--but my wife--[_Aside._ [DORILANT _whispers with_ Mrs. PINCHWIFE. _Alith._ Come, brother, your wife is yet innocent, you see; but have a care of too strong an imagination, lest, like an over-concerned timorous gamester, by fancying an unlucky cast, it should come. Women and fortune are truest still to those that trust 'em. _Lucy._ And any wild thing grows but the more fierce and hungry for being kept up, and more dangerous to the keeper. _Alith._ There's doctrine for all husbands, Mr. Harcourt. _Har._ I edify, madam, so much, that I am impatient till I am one. _Dor._ And I edify so much by example, I will never be one. _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?