Sir Pat.Hah, what’s that?L. Fan.Heavens! what’s the matter? we are destin’d to discovery.She runs to SirPatient, and leaves the Door still fast.Sir Pat.What’s that I say, what’s that? let me see, let me see, what ringing’s that, Oh, let me see what ’tis.Strives to get up, she holds him down.L. Fan.Oh, now I see my Fate’s inevitable! Alas, that ever I was born to see’t.Weeps.Wit.Death, she’ll tell him I am here: Nay, he must know’t, a Pox of all Invention and Mechanicks, and he were damn’d that first contriv’d a Watch.Sir Pat.Hah, dost weep?—why dost weep? I say, what Noise is that? what ringing? hah.—L. Fan.’Tis that, ’tis that, my Dear, that makes me weep. Alas, I never hear this fatal Noise, but some dear Friend dies.Sir Pat.Hah, dies! Oh, that must be I, ay, ay, Oh.L. Fan.I’ve heard it, Sir, this two Days, but wou’d not tell you of it.Sir Pat.Hah! heard it these two Days! Oh, what is’t a Death-watch?—hah.—L. Fan.Ay, Sir, a Death-watch, a certain Larum Death-watch, a thing that has warn’d our Family this hundred Years, oh,—I’m the most undone Woman!Wit.A Blessing on her for a dear dissembling Jilt—Death and the Devil, will it never cease?Sir Pat.A Death-watch! ah, ’tis so, I’ve often heard of these things—methinks it sounds as if ’twere under the Bed.—Offers to look, she holds him.L. Fan.You think so, Sir, but that ’tis about the Bed is my Grief; it therefore threatens you: Oh wretched Woman!Sir Pat.Ay, ay, I’m too happy in a Wife to live long: Well, I will settle my House atHogsdowne, with the Land about it, which is 500l.a Year upon thee, live or die,—do not grieve.—Lays himself down.L. Fan.Oh, I never had more Cause; come try to sleep, your Fate may be diverted—whilst I’ll to Prayers for your dear Health.—Covers him, draws the Curtains.I have almost run out all my stock of Hypocrisy, and that hated Art now fails me.—Oh all ye Powers that favour distrest Lovers, assist us now, and I’ll provide against your future Malice.She makes Signs toWittmore, he peeps.Wit.I’m impatient of Freedom, yet so much Happiness as I but now injoy’d without this part of Suffering had made me too blest.—Death and Damnation! what curst luck have I?Makes Signs to her to open the Door: whilst he creeps softly from under the Bed to the Table, by which going to raise himself, he pulls down all the Dressing-things: at the same instant SirPatientleaps from the Bed, and she returns from the Door, and sits onWittmore’sBack as he lies on his Hands and Knees, and makes as if she swooned.Sir Pat.What’s the matter? what’s the matter? hasSatan broke his everlasting Chain, and got loose abroad to plague poor Mortals? hah—what’s the matter?Runs to his Lady.L. Fan.Oh, help, I die—I faint—run down, and call for help.Sir Pat.My Lady dying? oh, she’s gone, she faints,—what ho, who waits?Cries and bauls.L. Fan.Oh, go down and bring me help, the Door is lock’d,—they cannot hear ye,—oh—I go—I& die.—He opens the Door, and calls help, help.Wit.Damn him! there’s no escaping without I kill the Dog.From under her, peeping.L. Fan.Lie still, or we are undone.—SirPatientreturns withMaundy.Maun.Hah, discover’d!Sir Pat.Help, help, my Lady dies.Maun.Oh, I perceive how’tis.—Alas, she’s dead, quite gone; oh, rub her Temples, Sir.Sir Pat.Oh, I’m undone then,—Weeps.Oh my Dear, my virtuous Lady!L. Fan.Oh, where’s my Husband, my dearest Husband—Oh, bring him near me.Sir Pat.I’m here, my excellent Lady.—She takes him about the Neck, and raises her self up, givesWittmorea little kick behind.Wit.Oh the dear lovely Hypocrite, was ever Man so near discovery?—Goes out.Sir Pat.Oh, how hard she presses my Head to her Bosom!Maun.Ah, that grasping hard, Sir, is a very bad Sign.Sir Pat.How does my good, my dearest LadyFancy?L. Fan.Something better now, give me more Air,—that dismal Larum Death-watch had almost kill’d me.Sir Pat.Ah precious Creature, how she afflicts her self for me.—Come, let’s walk into the Dining-room, ’tismore airy, from thence into my Study, and make thy self Mistress of that Fortune I have design’d thee, thou best of Women.Exeunt,leading her.ACT V.Scene I.A Room in SirPatient Fancy’sHouse.A Table, and six Chairs.EnterIsabellareading a Letter,Bettytricking her.Isab.How came you by this Letter?Bet.MissFannyreceiv’d it by a String from his Window, by which he took up that you writ to him this Morning.Isab.What means this nicety? forbear I say.—PutsBettyfrom her.Bet.You cannot be too fine upon your Wedding-day.Isab.Thou art mistaken, leave me,—whatever he says here to satisfy my Jealousy, I am confirm’d that he was false: yet this assurance to free me from this intended Marriage, makes me resolve to pardon him, however guilty.—EnterWittmore.How now! what means this Insolence? How dare you, having so lately made your guilty approaches, venture again into my presence?Wit.Why? Is there any danger, but what’s so visible in those fair Eyes?Isab.And there may lie enough, Sir, when they’re angry. By what Authority do you make this saucy Visit?Wit.That of a Husband, Madam; Icometo congratulate the mighty Joy this Day will bring you.Isab.Thou darst not marry me, there will be danger in’t.Wit.Why, sure you do not carry Death in your Embraces, I find no Terror in that lovely Shape, no Daggers in that pretty scornful Look; that Breath that utters somuch Anger now, last night was sweet as new-blown Roses are,—and spoke such Words, so tender and so kind.Isab.And canst thou think they were address’d to thee?Wit.No, nor cou’d the Shade of Night hide the Confusion which disorder’d you, at the discovery that I was not he, the blessed he you look’d for.Isab.Leave me, thou hated Object of my Soul.Wit.This will not serve your turn, for I must marry you.Isab.Then thou art a Fool, and drawest thy Ruin on; why, I will hate thee,—hate thee most extremely.Wit.That will not anger me.Isab.Why, I will never let thee touch me, nor kiss my Hand, nor come into my sight.Wit.Are there no other Women kind, fair, and to be purchas’d? he cannot starve for Beauty in this Age, that has a stock to buy.Isab.Why, I will cuckold thee, look to’t, I will most damnably.Wit.So wou’d you, had you lov’d me, in a year or two; therefore like a kind civil Husband, I’ve made provision for you, a Friend, and one I dare trust my Honour with,—’tis Mr.Knowell, Madam.Isab.Lodwick!What Devil brought that Name to his knowledge?—Canst thou know him, and yet dare hope to marry me?Wit.We have agreed it, and on these conditions.Isab.Thou basely injurest him, he cannot do a Deed he ought to blush for:Lodwickdo this! Oh, do not credit it,—prithee be just and kind for thy own Honour’s sake; be quickly so, the hasty minutes fly, and will anon make up the fatal Hour that will undo me.Wit.’Tis true, within an hour you must submit toHymen, there’s no avoiding it.Isab.Nay, then be gone, my poor submissive Prayers, and all that dull Obedience Custom has made us Slaves to.—Do sacrifice me, lead me to the Altar, and see ifall the holy mystick Words can conjure from me the consenting Syllable: No, I will not add one word to make the Charm complete, but stand as silent in the inchanting Circle, as if the Priests were raising Devils there.EnterLodwick.Lod.Enough, enough, my charmingIsabella, I am confirm’d.Isab.Lodwick!what good Angel conducted thee hither?Lod.E’en honestCharles Wittmorehere, thy Friend and mine, no Bug-bear Lover he.Isab.Wittmore!that Friend I’ve often heard thee name? Now some kind mischief on him, he has so frighted me, I scarce can bring my Sense to so much order, to thank him that he loves me not.Lod.Thou shalt defer that payment to more leisure; we’re Men of business now. My Mother, knowing of a Consultation of Physicians which your Father has this day appointed to meet at his House, has bribed MonsieurTurboonehisFrenchDoctor in Pension, to admit of a Doctor or two of her recommending, who shall amuse him with discourse till we get ourselves married; and to make it the more ridiculous, I will release SirCredulousfrom the Basket, I saw it in the Hall as I came through, we shall have need of the Fool.ExitWittmore.EnterWittmore, pulling in the Basket.Wit.’Twill do well.Lod.SirCredulous, how is’t, Man?Opens the Basket.Sir Cred.What, am I not at the Carrier’s yet?—OhLodwick, thy Hand, I’m almost poison’d—This Basket wants airing extremely, it smells like an old Lady’s Wedding Gown of my acquaintance.—But what’s the danger past, Man?Lod.No, but there’s a necessity of your being for some time disguis’d to act a Physician.Sir Cred.How! a Physician! that I can easily do, for I understand Simples.Lod.That’s not material, so you can but banter well, be very grave, and put on a starch’d Countenance.Sir Cred.Banter! what’s that, Man?Lod.Why, Sir, talking very much, and meaning just nothing; be full of Words without any connection, sense or conclusion. Come in with me, and I’ll instruct you farther.Sir Cred.Pshaw, is that all? say no more on’t, I’ll do’t, let me alone for Bantering—But this same damn’d Rival—Lod.He’s now watching for you without and meansto souseupon you; but trust to me for your security; come away, I have your Habit ready.Goes out.—This day shall make thee mine, dearIsabella.—ExitLodwickandWittmore.Enter SirPatient,Leander, andRoger.Sir Pat.MarryLucretia! is there no Woman in the City fit for you, but the Daughter of the most notorious fantastical Lady within the Walls?Lean.Yet that fantastical Lady you thought fit for a Wife for me, Sir.Sir Pat.Yes, Sir, Foppery with Money had been something; but a poor Fop, hang’t, ’tis abominable.Lean.Pray hear me, Sir.Sir Pat.Sirrah, Sirrah, you’re a Jackanapes, ingenuously you are, Sir: marryLucretia, quoth he?Lean.If it were so, Sir, where’s her fault?Sir Pat.Why, Mr. Coxcomb, all over. Did I with so much care endeavour to marry thee to the Mother, only to give thee opportunity withLucretia?Enter LadyKnowell.Lean.This Anger shews your great Concern for me.Sir Pat.For my Name I am, but ’twere no matter if thou wert hang’d, and thou deservest it for thy leudcavaliering Opinion.—They say thou art a Papist too, or at least a Church-of-EnglandMan, and I profess there’s not a Pin to chuse.—MarryLucretia!L. Kno.Were I querimonious, I shou’d resent the AffrontthisBalatroonhas offer’d me.Isab.Dear Madam, for my sake do not anger him now.Aside to her.L. Kno.Upon my Honour, you are very free with my Daughter, Sir.Sir Pat.How! she here! now for a Peal from her eternal Clapper; I had rather be confin’d to an Iron-mill.L. Kno.SureLucretiamerits a Husband of as much worth as your Nephew, Sir.Sir Pat.A better, Madam, for he’s the leudest Hector in the Town; he has all the Vices of Youth, Whoring, Swearing, Drinking, Damning, Fighting,—and a thousand more, numberless and nameless.L. Kno.Time, Sir, may make him more abstemious.Sir Pat.Oh, never, Madam! ’tis in’s Nature, he was born with it, he’s given over to Reprobation, ’tis bred i’th’ bone,—he’s lost.Lean.This is the first good Office that ever he did me.L. Kno.What think you, Sir, if in defiance of your Inurbanity, I take him with all these Faults my self?Sir Pat.How, Madam!L. Kno.Without more Ambages, Sir, I have consider’d your former Desires, and have consented to marry him, notwithstanding your Exprobrations.Sir Pat.May I believe this, Madam? and has your Ladyship that Goodness?—and hast thou, my Boy, so much Wit? Why, this is something now.—Well, he was ever the best and sweetest-natur’d Youth.—Why, what a notable Wag’s this? and is it true, my Boy, hah?Lean.Yes, Sir, I had told you so before, had you permitted me to speak.Sir Pat.Well, Madam, he is only fit for your excellentLadyship, he is the prettiest civillest Lad.—Well, go thy ways; I shall never see the like of thee; no—Ingenuously, the Boy’s made for ever; two thousand Pounds a Year, besides Money, Plate and Jewels; made for ever.—Well, Madam, the satisfaction I take in this Alliance, has made me resolve to give him immediately my Writings of all my Land inBerkshire, five hundred Pounds a year, Madam: and I wou’d have you married this Morning with my Daughter, so one Dinner and one Rejoicing will serve both.L. Kno.That, Sir, we have already agreed upon.Sir Pat.Well, I’ll fetch the Writings. Come,Isabella, I’ll not trust you out of my sight to day.Ex. SirPat.andIsab.Lean.Well then, Madam, you are resolv’d upon this business of Matrimony.L. Kno.Was it not concluded between us, Sir, this Morning? and at the near approach do you begin to fear?Lean.Nothing, Madam, since I’m convinc’d of your Goodness.L. Kno.You flatter, Sir, this is mere Adulation.Lean.No, I am that wild Extravagant my Uncle render’d me, and cannot live confin’d.L. Kno.To one Woman you mean? I shall not stand with you for a Mistress or two; I hate a dull morose unfashionable Blockhead to my Husband; nor shall I be the first example of a suffering Wife, Sir. Women were created poor obedient things.Lean.And can you be content to spare me five or six nights in a week?L. Kno.Oh, you’re too reasonable.Lean.And for the rest, if I get drunk, perhaps I’ll give to you: yet in my drink I’m damn’d ill-natur’d too, and may neglect my Duty; perhaps shall be so wicked, to call you cunning, deceitful, jilting, base, and swear you have undone me, swear you have ravish’d from my faithful Heart all that cou’d make it bless’d or happy.EnterLucretiaweeping.L. Kno.How now,Lucretia!Lucr.Oh Madam, give me leave to kneel before, and tell you, if you pursue the Cruelty I hear you’re going to commit, I am the most lost, most wretched Maid that breathes; we two have plighted Faiths, and shou’d you marry him, ’twere so to sin as Heaven would never pardon.L. Kno.Rise, Fool.Lucr.Never till you have given me backLeander, or leave to live no more.—Pray kill me, Madam; and the same Flowers that deck your nuptial Bed,Shall serve to strow my Herse, when I shall lieA dead cold Witness of your Tyranny.L. Kno.Rise; I still design’d him yours.—I saw with pleasure, Sir, your reclination from my Addresses.—I have proved both your Passions, and ’twere unkind not to crown ’em with the due Præmium of each others Merits.Gives her toLean.Lean.Can Heaven and you agree to be so bountiful?L. Kno.Be not amaz’d at this turn,Rotat omnefatum.—But no more,—keep still that mask of Love we first put on, till you have gain’d the Writings: for I have no Joy beyond cheating that filthy Uncle of thine.—Lucretia, wipe your Eyes, and prepare forHymen, the Hour draws near.Thalessio,Thalessio, as theRomanscry’d.Lucr.May you still be admir’d as you deserve!Enter SirPatientwith Writings, andIsabella.Sir Pat.How, MadamLucretia, and in Tears?L. Kno.A little disgusted, Sir, with her Father-in-law, Sir.Sir Pat.Oh, is that all? hold up thy Head, Sweet-heart, thy turn’s next.—Here, Madam, I surrender my Title, with these Writings, and with ’em my Joy, my Life, my Darling, myLeander.—Now let’s away, where’s Mr.Fainlove?Isab.He’s but stept intoCheapside, to fit the Ring, Sir,and willbe here immediately.Sir Pat.I have Business anon about eleven of the Clock, a Consultation of Physicians, to confer about this Carcase of mine.Lean.Physicians, Sir, what to do?Sir Pat.To do! why, to take their advice, Sir, and to follow it.Lean.For what, I beseech you, Sir?Sir Pat.Why, Sir, for my Health.Lean.I believe you are not sick, Sir, unless they make you so.Sir Pat.They make me so!—Do you hear him, Madam—Am not I sick, Sir? not I, SirPatient Fancy, sick?L. Kno.He’ll destroy my Design.—How, Mr.Fancy, not SirPatientsick? or must he be incinerated before you’ll credit it?Sir Pat.Ay, Madam, I want but dying to undeceive him, and yet I am not sick!Lean.Sir, I love your Life, and wou’d not have you die with Fancy and Conceit.—Sir Pat.Fancy and Conceit! do but observe him, Madam,—what do you mean, Sir, by Fancy and Conceit?L. Kno.He’ll ruin all;—why, Sir,—he means—Sir Pat.Nay, let him alone, let him alone, (with your Ladyship’s pardon)—Come, Sir,—Fancy and Conceit, I take it, was the Question in debate.—Lean.I cannot prove this to you, Sir, by force of Argument, but by Demonstration I will, if you will banish all your cozening Quacks, and take my wholesome Advice.Sir Pat.Do but hear him, Madam: not prove it!L. Kno.Sir, he means nothing.—Not sick! alas, Sir, you’re very sick.Sir Pat.Ay, ay, your Ladyship is a Lady of profound Knowledge.—Why, have I not had the advice of all the Doctors inEngland, and have I not been in continualPhysick this twenty Years:—and yet I am not sick! Ask my dear Lady, Sir, how sick I am, she can inform you.L.Kno.goes and talks toIsab.Lean.She does her endeavour, Sir, to keep up the Humour.Sir Pat.How, Sir?Lean.She wishes you dead, Sir.Sir Pat.What said the Rascal? wishes me dead!Lean.Sir, she hates you.Sir Pat.How! hate me! what, my Lady hate me?Lean.She abuses your Love, plays tricks with ye, and cheats ye, Sir.Sir Pat.Was ever so profane a Wretch! What, you will not prove this neither?Lean.Yes, by demonstration too.Sir Pat.Why, thou saucy Varlet, Sirrah, Sirrah, thank my Lady here I do not cudgel thee.—Well, I will settle the rest of my Estate upon her to morrow, I will, Sir; and thank God you have what you have, Sir, make much on’t.Lean.Pardon me, Sir, ’tis not my single Opinion, but the whole City takes notice on’t: that I tell it you, Sir, is the Effect of my Duty, not Interest. Pray give me leave to prove this to you, Sir.Sir Pat.What, you are at your Demonstration again?—come—let’s hear.Lean.Why, Sir, give her frequent opportunities,—and then surprize her;—or, by pretending to settle all upon her,—give her your Power, and see if she do not turn you out of Doors;—or—by feigning you are sick to death—or indeed by dying.Sir Pat.I thank you, Sir,—this indeed is Demonstration, I take it.Pulls off his Hat.Lean.I mean but feigning, Sir; and be a witness your self of her Sorrow, or Contempt.Sir Pat.Pauses.Hah—hum,—why, ingenuously, this may be a very pretty Project.—Well, Sir, suppose I followyour advice?—nay, I profess I will do so, not to try her Faith, but to have the pleasure to hear her conjugal Lamentations, feel her Tears bedew my Face, and her sweet Mouth kissing my Cheeks a thousand times; verily a wonderful Comfort.—And then, Sir, what becomes of your Demonstration?—EnterWittmorewith the Ring.Oh—Mr.Fainlove, come, come, you’re tardy, let’s away to Church.EnterRoger.Rog.Sir, here is DoctorTurboon, and those other Doctors your Worship expected.Enter LadyFancyandBartholomew.Sir Pat.The Doctors already!—well, bring ’em up; come, Madam, we have waited for your Ladyship,—bring up the Doctors,Roger.ExitRoger.L. Fan.Wittmore, I have now brought that design to a happy Conclusion, for which I married this formal Ass; I’ll tell thee more anon,—we are observ’d.L. Kno.Oh,Lodwick’scome!EnterLodwick, MonsieurTurboon, Fat Doctor,Amsterdam,Leyden, SirCredulous.Sir Pat.DoctorTurboon, your Servant, I expected you not this two hours.Turb.Nor had ee com, Sir, bot for dese wordy Gentlemen, whos Affairs wode not permit dem to come at your hoar.Sir Pat.Are they English pray?Turb.Dis is, Sir,—Pointing toLod.an admirable Physician, and a rare Astrologer.—Dis speaks goodEnglish, bot aCollenderborn.Points to SirCred.Sir Cred.What a pox, does the Fellow call me a Cullender?Lod.He means aHigh-Dutch-manof the Town ofCollen, Sir.Sir Pat.Sir, I have heard of your Fame.—Doctor, pray entertain these Gentlemen till my return, I’ll be with you presently.Lod.Sir, I hope you go not forth to day.Gazing on his Face.Sir Pat.Not far, Sir.Lod.There is a certain Star has rul’d this two days, Sir, of a very malignant Influence to Persons of your Complection and Constitution.—Let me see—within this two hours and six minutes, its Malice will be spent, till then it will be fatal.Sir Pat.Hum, reign’d this two Days?—I profess and things have gone very cross with me this two Days,—a notable Man this.L. Kno.Oh, a very profound Astrologer, Sir, upon my Honour, I know him.Sir Pat.But this is an Affair of that Importance, Sir,—Lod.If it be more than Health or Life, I beg your pardon, Sir.Sir Pat.Nay, no Offence, Sir, I beseech you, I’ll stay, Sir.L. Kno.How! SirPatientnot see us married?Sir Pat.You shall excuse me, Madam.L. Fan.This was lucky; Oh Madam, wou’d you have my Dear venture out, when a malignant Star reigns! not for the World.Sir Pat.No, I’ll not stir; had it been any Star but a malignant Star, I had waited on your Ladyship: but these malignant Stars are very pernicious Stars. Nephew, take my LadyKnowell, Mr.Fainlovemy Daughter; andBartholomewdo you conduct my Lady, the Parson stays for you, and the Coaches are at the Door.Exeunt L.Kno.Lean.Wit.andIsab.L.FancyandBartholomew.EnterBoy.Boy.Sir, my Lady has sent for you.Exit.Lod.Sir, I’ll be with you presently; SirCredulous, be sure you lug him by the Ears with any sort of Stuff till my return. I’ll send you a Friend to keep you in countenance.Sir Pat.Please you to sit, Gentlemen?ExitLod.Amst.Please you, Sir.To SirCred.who bows and runs back.Sir Cred.Oh Lord, sweet Sir, I hope you do not take me—Nay, I beseech you, Noble Sir—Reverend Sir.Turning from one to t’other.Leyd.By no means, Sir, a Stranger.Sir Cred.I beseech you—Scavantissimi Doctores,—incomparable Sir,—and you—or you.Fat D.In troth, Sir, these Compliments are needless, I am something corpulent, and love my ease.Sits.Sir Cred.Generous Sir, you say well; thereforeConlicentia, as theGrecianshave it.Sits.Amst.—Brother.—Leyd.Nay, good Brother,—SirPatient—Sir Pat.Ingenuously, not before you, Mr. Doctor.Leyd.Excuse me, Sir, an Alderman, and a Knight.—Sir Pat.Both below the least of the learned Society.Leyd.Since you will have it so.All sit and cry hum,—and look gravely.Sir Cred.Hum—hum, most Worthy, and most Renowned—Medicinæ Professores, qui hic assemblati estis, & vos altri Messiores; I am now going to make a Motion for the publick Good of us all, but will do nothing without your Doctorships Approbation.Sir Pat.Judiciously concluded.Sir Cred.The question then is,Reverentissimi Doctores, whether—for mark me, I come to the matter in hand, hating long Circumstances of Words; there being no necessity, as our learned BrotherRabelaisobserves in that most notorious Treatise of his call’dGaragantua; there is, says he, no necessity of going over the Hedge when the Path lies fair before ye: therefore, as I said before,I now say again, coming to my Question; for as that admirableWelchDivine says, in that so famous Sermon of his, upon her Creat CranfatherHadamand her Creat CranmotherHeeveconcerning the Happell,—and her will, warrant her, her will keep her to her Text still,—so I stick close to my question, which is,Illustrissimi Doctores, whether it be not necessary to the Affair in hand—to take—a Bottle; and if your Doctorships are of my opinion—hold up your Thumbs.All hold up their Thumbs.—Look, Sir, you observe the Votes of the learnedCabalists.Sir Pat.Which shall be put in Act forthwith—I like this Man well, he does nothing without matureDeliberation.EnterBrunswick.Brun.By your leaves, Gentlemen—SirCredulous—Whispers.Sir Cred.Oh—’tisLodwick’sFriend, the Rascal’s dress’d likeVanderbergenin theStrand:—SirPatient, pray know this glorious Doctor, Sir.Sir Pat.A Doctor, Sir?Sir Cred.A Doctor, Sir! yes, and as eloquent a Doctor, Sir, as ever set Bill to Post: why, ’tis—the incomparable—Brunswick,High-DutchDoctor.Sir Pat.You’re welcome, Sir,—Pray sit; ah.—Well, Sir, you are come to visit a very crazy sickly Person, Sir.Brun.Pray let me feel your Pulse, Sir;—what think you, Gentlemen, is he not very far gone?—Feels his Pulse, they all feel.Sir Cred.Ah, far, far.—Pray, Sir, have you not a certain wambling Pain in your Stomach, Sir, as it were, Sir, a—a pain, Sir.Sir Pat.Oh, very great, Sir, especially in a Morning fasting.Sir Cred.I knew it by your stinking Breath, Sir—and are you not troubled with a Pain in your Head, Sir?Sir Pat.In my Head, Sir?Sir Cred.I mean a—kind of a—Pain,—a kind of aVertigo, as theLatinscall it; and aWhirligigoustiphon, as theGreekshave it, which signifies inEnglish, Sir, a Dizzie-swimming kind—of a do ye see—a thing—that—a—you understand me.Sir Pat.Oh, intolerable, intolerable!—why, this is a rare Man!Fat D.Your Reason, Sir, for that?To SirCred.Sir Cred.My Reason, Sir? why, my Reason, Sir, is this,HalytheMoore, andRabbi Isaac, and some thousands more of learnedDutchmen, observe your dull Wall Eye and your Whir—Whirligigoustiphon, to be inseparable.Brun.A most learned Reason!Fat D.Oh, Sir, inseparable.Sir Cred.And have you not a kind of a—something—do ye mark me, when you make Water, a kind of a stopping—and—a—do ye conceive me, I have forgot theEnglishTerm, Sir, but in Latin ’tis aStronggullionibus.Sir Pat.Oh, Sir, most extremely, ’tis that which makes me desperate, Sir.Sir Cred.Your ugly Face is an infallible Sign; yourDysurie, as theArabickscall it, and your ill-favour’d Countenance, are constant Relatives.All.Constant, constant.Sir Cred.Pray how do you eat, Sir?Sir Pat.Ah, Sir, there’s my distraction. Alas, Sir, I have the weakest Stomach—I do not make above four Meals a-day, and then indeed I eat heartily—but alas, what’s that to eating to live?—nothing, Sir, nothing.—Sir Cred.Poor Heart, I pity him.Sir Pat.And between Meals, good Wine, Sweet-meats, Caudles,—Cordials and Mirabilises, to keep up my fainting Spirits.Sir Cred.A Pox of his Aldermanship: an the whole Bench were such notable Swingers, ’twould famish the City sooner than a Siege.Amst.Brothers, what do you think of this Man?Leyd.Think, Sir? I think his Case is desperate.Sir Cred.Shaw, Sir, we shall soon rectify the quiblets and quillities of his Blood, if he observes our Directions and Diet, which is to eat but once in four or five days.Sir Pat.How, Sir, eat but once in four or five days? such a Diet, Sir, would kill me; alas, Sir, kill me.Sir Cred.Oh no, Sir, no; for look ye, Sir, the Case is thus, do you mind me—so that the Business lying so obvious, do ye see, there is a certain Method, do ye mark me—in a—Now, Sir, when a Man goes about to alter the course of Nature,—the case is very plain, you may as well arrest the Chariot of the Sun, or alter the Eclipses of the Moon; for, Sir, this being of another Nature, the Nature of it is to be unnatural, you conceive me, Sir?—therefore we must crave your absence, Sir, for a few Minutes, till we have debated this great Affair.Sir Pat.With all my heart, Sir, since my Case is so desperate, a few hours were not too much.Ex. SirPat.Sir Cred.Now, Sir, my service to you.Drinks.EnterFanny.Fan.Oh living heart! what do all these Men do in our House? sure they are a sort of new-fashion’d Conventiclers:—I’ll hear ’em preach.They drink round the while.Amst.Sir, my service to you, and to your good Lady, Sir.Leyd.Again to you, Sir, not forgetting your Daughters: they are fine Women, Sir, let Scandal do its worst.Drinks.Turb.To our better trading, Sir.Brun.Faith, it goes but badly on, I had the weekly Bill, and ’twas a very thin Mortality; some of the better sort die indeed, that have good round Fees to give.Turb.Verily, I have not kill’d above my five or six this Week.Brun.How, Sir, kill’d?Turb.Kill’d, Sir! ever whilst you live, especially those who have the grandVerole; for ’tis not for a Man’s Credit to let the Patient want an Eye or a Nose, or some other thing. I have kill’d ye my five or six dozen a Week—but times are hard.Brun.I grant ye, Sir, your Poor for Experiment and Improvement of Knowledge: and to say truth, there ought to be such Scavengers as we to sweep away the Rubbish of the Nation.SirCred.andFatseeming in Discourse.Sir Cred.Nay, an you talk of a Beast, my service to you, Sir—Drinks.Ay, I lost the finest Beast of a Mare in allDevonshire.Fat D.And I the finest Spaniel, Sir.Here they all talk together till you come to —purpose, Sir.Turb.Pray, what News is there stirring?Brun.Faith, Sir, I am one of those Fools that never regard whetherLewisorPhiliphave the better or the worst.Turb.Peace is a great Blessing, Sir, a very great Blessing.Brun.You are i’th right, Sir, and so my service to you, Sir.Leyd.Well, Sir,Stetinheld out nobly, though the Gazettes are various.Amst.There’s a world of Men kill’d they say; why, what a shame ’tis so many thousands should die without the help of a Physician.Leyd.Hang ’em, they were poor Rogues, and not worth our killing; my service to you, Sir, they’ll serve to fill up Trenches.Sir Cred.Spaniel, Sir! no Man breathing understands Dogs and Horses better than my self.Fat D.Your pardon for that, Sir.Sir Cred.For look ye, Sir, I’ll tell you the Nature of Dogs and Horses.Fat D.So can my Groom and Dog-keeper; but what’s this to th’ purpose, Sir?Here they leave off.Sir Cred.To th’ purpose, Sir! good Mr.Hedleburgh, do you understand what’s to th’ purpose? you’reaDutchButter-ferkin, a Kilderkin, a Double Jug.Fat D.You’re an ignorant Blockhead, Sir.Sir Cred.You lye, Sir, and there I was with you again.Amst.What, quarrelling, Men of your Gravity and Profession.Sir Cred.That is to say, Fools and Knaves: pray, how long is’t since you leftToping and Napping, for Quacking, good BrotherCater-tray?—but let that pass, for I’ll have my Humour, and therefore will quarrel with no Man, and so I drink.—Goes to fill again.Brun.—But, what’s all this to the Patient, Gentlemen?Sir Cred.Ay,—the Wine’s all out,—and Quarrels apart, Gentlemen, as you say, what do you think of our Patient? for something I conceive necessary to be said for our Fees.Fat D.I think that unless he follows our Prescriptions he’s a dead Man.Sir Cred.Ay, Sir, a dead Man.Fat D.Please you to write, Sir, you seem the youngest Doctor.ToAmst.Amst.Your Pardon, Sir, I conceive there maybe younger Doctors than I at the Board.Sir Cred.A fine Punctilio this, when a Man lies a dyingAside.—Sir, you shall excuse me, I have been a Doctor this 7 Years.They shove the Pen and Paper from one to the other.Amst.I commenc’d atParistwenty years ago.Leyd.And I atLeyden, almost as long since.Fat D.And I atBarcelonathirty.Sir Cred.And I atPadua, Sir.Fat D.You atPadua?Sir Cred.Yes, Sir, I atPadua; why, what a pox, do ye think I never was beyond Sea?Brun.However, Sir, you are the youngest Doctor, and must write.Sir Cred.I will not lose an inch of my Dignity.Fat D.Nor I.Amst.Nor I.Leyd.Nor I.Put the Paper from each other.Brun.Death, what Rascals are these?Sir Cred.Give me the Pen—here’s ado about yourPaduasand Punctilioes.Sets himself to write.Amst.Every morning a Dose of my PillsMerda queorusticon, or the Amicable Pill.Sir Cred.Fasting?Leyd.Every Hour sixscore drops ofAdminicula Vitæ.Sir Cred.Fasting too?SirCred.writes still.Fat D.At Night twelve Cordial Pills,Gallimofriticus.Turb.Let Blood once a Week, a Glister once a day.Brun.Cry Mercy, Sir, you’re aFrenchMan.—After his first Sleep, threescore restorative Pills, call’dCheatus Redivivus.Sir Cred.And lastly, fifteen Spoonfuls of myAqua Tetrachymagogon, as often as ’tis necessary; little or no Breakfast, less Dinner, and go supperless to Bed.Fat D.Hum, yourAqua Tetrachymagogon?Sir Cred.Yes, Sir, myTetrachymagogon; for look ye, do you see, Sir, I cur’d the Arch-Duke ofStrumbuloof aGondileero, of which he dy’d, with this veryAqua Tetrachymagogon.Enter SirPatient.Sir Pat.Well, Gentlemen, am I not an intruder?Fat D.Sir, we have duly consider’d the state of your Body; and are now about the Order and Method you are to observe.Brun.Ay, this Distemper will be the occasion of his Death.Sir Cred.Hold, Brothers, I do not say the occasion of his Death; but the occasional Cause of his Death.SirPat.reads the Bill.Sir Pat.Why, here’s no time allow’d for eating, Gentlemen.Amst.Sir, we’ll justify this Prescription to the whole College.Leyd.If he will not follow it, let him die.All.Ay, let him die.EnterLodwickandLeander.Lod.What, have you consulted without me, Gentlemen?Lod.reads the Bill.Sir Pat.Yes, Sir, and find it absolutely necessary for my Health, Sir, I shou’d be starv’d: and yet you say I am not sick, Sir.ToLean.Lod.Very well, very well.Sir Pat.No Breakfast, no Dinner, no Supper?Sir Cred.Little or none, but none’s best.Sir Pat.But, Gentlemen, consider, no small thing?All.Nothing, nothing.Sir Cred.Sir, you must write for your Fee.ToLod.Lod.Now I think on’t, Sir, you may eatWrites.a roasted Pippin cold upon a Vine-leaf, at night.Lean.Do you see, Sir, what damn’d canting Rascals these Doctors are?Sir Pat.Ay, ay, if all Doctors were such, ingenuously, I shou’d soon be weary of Physick.Lean.Give ’em their Fees, Sir, and send ’em to the Devil for a Company of Cheats.Sir Pat.Truth is, there is no faith in ’em,—well, I thank you for your Care and Pains.Gives ’em Fees.Sir Cred.Sir, if you have any occasion for me, I live at the red-colour’d Lanthorn, with eleven Candles in’t, in theStrand; where you may come in privately, and need not be ashamed, I having no Creature in my House but my self, and my whole Family.—
Sir Pat.Hah, what’s that?
L. Fan.Heavens! what’s the matter? we are destin’d to discovery.She runs to SirPatient, and leaves the Door still fast.
Sir Pat.What’s that I say, what’s that? let me see, let me see, what ringing’s that, Oh, let me see what ’tis.Strives to get up, she holds him down.
L. Fan.Oh, now I see my Fate’s inevitable! Alas, that ever I was born to see’t.Weeps.
Wit.Death, she’ll tell him I am here: Nay, he must know’t, a Pox of all Invention and Mechanicks, and he were damn’d that first contriv’d a Watch.
Sir Pat.Hah, dost weep?—why dost weep? I say, what Noise is that? what ringing? hah.—
L. Fan.’Tis that, ’tis that, my Dear, that makes me weep. Alas, I never hear this fatal Noise, but some dear Friend dies.
Sir Pat.Hah, dies! Oh, that must be I, ay, ay, Oh.
L. Fan.I’ve heard it, Sir, this two Days, but wou’d not tell you of it.
Sir Pat.Hah! heard it these two Days! Oh, what is’t a Death-watch?—hah.—
L. Fan.Ay, Sir, a Death-watch, a certain Larum Death-watch, a thing that has warn’d our Family this hundred Years, oh,—I’m the most undone Woman!
Wit.A Blessing on her for a dear dissembling Jilt—Death and the Devil, will it never cease?
Sir Pat.A Death-watch! ah, ’tis so, I’ve often heard of these things—methinks it sounds as if ’twere under the Bed.—Offers to look, she holds him.
L. Fan.You think so, Sir, but that ’tis about the Bed is my Grief; it therefore threatens you: Oh wretched Woman!
Sir Pat.Ay, ay, I’m too happy in a Wife to live long: Well, I will settle my House atHogsdowne, with the Land about it, which is 500l.a Year upon thee, live or die,—do not grieve.—Lays himself down.
L. Fan.Oh, I never had more Cause; come try to sleep, your Fate may be diverted—whilst I’ll to Prayers for your dear Health.—Covers him, draws the Curtains.I have almost run out all my stock of Hypocrisy, and that hated Art now fails me.—Oh all ye Powers that favour distrest Lovers, assist us now, and I’ll provide against your future Malice.She makes Signs toWittmore, he peeps.
Wit.I’m impatient of Freedom, yet so much Happiness as I but now injoy’d without this part of Suffering had made me too blest.—Death and Damnation! what curst luck have I?
Makes Signs to her to open the Door: whilst he creeps softly from under the Bed to the Table, by which going to raise himself, he pulls down all the Dressing-things: at the same instant SirPatientleaps from the Bed, and she returns from the Door, and sits onWittmore’sBack as he lies on his Hands and Knees, and makes as if she swooned.
Sir Pat.What’s the matter? what’s the matter? hasSatan broke his everlasting Chain, and got loose abroad to plague poor Mortals? hah—what’s the matter?Runs to his Lady.
L. Fan.Oh, help, I die—I faint—run down, and call for help.
Sir Pat.My Lady dying? oh, she’s gone, she faints,—what ho, who waits?Cries and bauls.
L. Fan.Oh, go down and bring me help, the Door is lock’d,—they cannot hear ye,—oh—I go—I& die.—He opens the Door, and calls help, help.
Wit.Damn him! there’s no escaping without I kill the Dog.From under her, peeping.
L. Fan.Lie still, or we are undone.—
SirPatientreturns withMaundy.
Maun.Hah, discover’d!
Sir Pat.Help, help, my Lady dies.
Maun.Oh, I perceive how’tis.—Alas, she’s dead, quite gone; oh, rub her Temples, Sir.
Sir Pat.Oh, I’m undone then,—Weeps.Oh my Dear, my virtuous Lady!
L. Fan.Oh, where’s my Husband, my dearest Husband—Oh, bring him near me.
Sir Pat.I’m here, my excellent Lady.—
She takes him about the Neck, and raises her self up, givesWittmorea little kick behind.
Wit.Oh the dear lovely Hypocrite, was ever Man so near discovery?—Goes out.
Sir Pat.Oh, how hard she presses my Head to her Bosom!
Maun.Ah, that grasping hard, Sir, is a very bad Sign.
Sir Pat.How does my good, my dearest LadyFancy?
L. Fan.Something better now, give me more Air,—that dismal Larum Death-watch had almost kill’d me.
Sir Pat.Ah precious Creature, how she afflicts her self for me.—Come, let’s walk into the Dining-room, ’tismore airy, from thence into my Study, and make thy self Mistress of that Fortune I have design’d thee, thou best of Women.
Exeunt,leading her.
EnterIsabellareading a Letter,Bettytricking her.
Isab.How came you by this Letter?
Bet.MissFannyreceiv’d it by a String from his Window, by which he took up that you writ to him this Morning.
Isab.What means this nicety? forbear I say.—PutsBettyfrom her.
Bet.You cannot be too fine upon your Wedding-day.
Isab.Thou art mistaken, leave me,—whatever he says here to satisfy my Jealousy, I am confirm’d that he was false: yet this assurance to free me from this intended Marriage, makes me resolve to pardon him, however guilty.—
EnterWittmore.
How now! what means this Insolence? How dare you, having so lately made your guilty approaches, venture again into my presence?
Wit.Why? Is there any danger, but what’s so visible in those fair Eyes?
Isab.And there may lie enough, Sir, when they’re angry. By what Authority do you make this saucy Visit?
Wit.That of a Husband, Madam; Icometo congratulate the mighty Joy this Day will bring you.
Isab.Thou darst not marry me, there will be danger in’t.
Wit.Why, sure you do not carry Death in your Embraces, I find no Terror in that lovely Shape, no Daggers in that pretty scornful Look; that Breath that utters somuch Anger now, last night was sweet as new-blown Roses are,—and spoke such Words, so tender and so kind.
Isab.And canst thou think they were address’d to thee?
Wit.No, nor cou’d the Shade of Night hide the Confusion which disorder’d you, at the discovery that I was not he, the blessed he you look’d for.
Isab.Leave me, thou hated Object of my Soul.
Wit.This will not serve your turn, for I must marry you.
Isab.Then thou art a Fool, and drawest thy Ruin on; why, I will hate thee,—hate thee most extremely.
Wit.That will not anger me.
Isab.Why, I will never let thee touch me, nor kiss my Hand, nor come into my sight.
Wit.Are there no other Women kind, fair, and to be purchas’d? he cannot starve for Beauty in this Age, that has a stock to buy.
Isab.Why, I will cuckold thee, look to’t, I will most damnably.
Wit.So wou’d you, had you lov’d me, in a year or two; therefore like a kind civil Husband, I’ve made provision for you, a Friend, and one I dare trust my Honour with,—’tis Mr.Knowell, Madam.
Isab.Lodwick!What Devil brought that Name to his knowledge?—Canst thou know him, and yet dare hope to marry me?
Wit.We have agreed it, and on these conditions.
Isab.Thou basely injurest him, he cannot do a Deed he ought to blush for:Lodwickdo this! Oh, do not credit it,—prithee be just and kind for thy own Honour’s sake; be quickly so, the hasty minutes fly, and will anon make up the fatal Hour that will undo me.
Wit.’Tis true, within an hour you must submit toHymen, there’s no avoiding it.
Isab.Nay, then be gone, my poor submissive Prayers, and all that dull Obedience Custom has made us Slaves to.—Do sacrifice me, lead me to the Altar, and see ifall the holy mystick Words can conjure from me the consenting Syllable: No, I will not add one word to make the Charm complete, but stand as silent in the inchanting Circle, as if the Priests were raising Devils there.
EnterLodwick.
Lod.Enough, enough, my charmingIsabella, I am confirm’d.
Isab.Lodwick!what good Angel conducted thee hither?
Lod.E’en honestCharles Wittmorehere, thy Friend and mine, no Bug-bear Lover he.
Isab.Wittmore!that Friend I’ve often heard thee name? Now some kind mischief on him, he has so frighted me, I scarce can bring my Sense to so much order, to thank him that he loves me not.
Lod.Thou shalt defer that payment to more leisure; we’re Men of business now. My Mother, knowing of a Consultation of Physicians which your Father has this day appointed to meet at his House, has bribed MonsieurTurboonehisFrenchDoctor in Pension, to admit of a Doctor or two of her recommending, who shall amuse him with discourse till we get ourselves married; and to make it the more ridiculous, I will release SirCredulousfrom the Basket, I saw it in the Hall as I came through, we shall have need of the Fool.
ExitWittmore.
EnterWittmore, pulling in the Basket.
Wit.’Twill do well.
Lod.SirCredulous, how is’t, Man?Opens the Basket.
Sir Cred.What, am I not at the Carrier’s yet?—OhLodwick, thy Hand, I’m almost poison’d—This Basket wants airing extremely, it smells like an old Lady’s Wedding Gown of my acquaintance.—But what’s the danger past, Man?
Lod.No, but there’s a necessity of your being for some time disguis’d to act a Physician.
Sir Cred.How! a Physician! that I can easily do, for I understand Simples.
Lod.That’s not material, so you can but banter well, be very grave, and put on a starch’d Countenance.
Sir Cred.Banter! what’s that, Man?
Lod.Why, Sir, talking very much, and meaning just nothing; be full of Words without any connection, sense or conclusion. Come in with me, and I’ll instruct you farther.
Sir Cred.Pshaw, is that all? say no more on’t, I’ll do’t, let me alone for Bantering—But this same damn’d Rival—
Lod.He’s now watching for you without and meansto souseupon you; but trust to me for your security; come away, I have your Habit ready.Goes out.—This day shall make thee mine, dearIsabella.—ExitLodwickandWittmore.
Enter SirPatient,Leander, andRoger.
Sir Pat.MarryLucretia! is there no Woman in the City fit for you, but the Daughter of the most notorious fantastical Lady within the Walls?
Lean.Yet that fantastical Lady you thought fit for a Wife for me, Sir.
Sir Pat.Yes, Sir, Foppery with Money had been something; but a poor Fop, hang’t, ’tis abominable.
Lean.Pray hear me, Sir.
Sir Pat.Sirrah, Sirrah, you’re a Jackanapes, ingenuously you are, Sir: marryLucretia, quoth he?
Lean.If it were so, Sir, where’s her fault?
Sir Pat.Why, Mr. Coxcomb, all over. Did I with so much care endeavour to marry thee to the Mother, only to give thee opportunity withLucretia?
Enter LadyKnowell.
Lean.This Anger shews your great Concern for me.
Sir Pat.For my Name I am, but ’twere no matter if thou wert hang’d, and thou deservest it for thy leudcavaliering Opinion.—They say thou art a Papist too, or at least a Church-of-EnglandMan, and I profess there’s not a Pin to chuse.—MarryLucretia!
L. Kno.Were I querimonious, I shou’d resent the AffrontthisBalatroonhas offer’d me.
Isab.Dear Madam, for my sake do not anger him now.Aside to her.
L. Kno.Upon my Honour, you are very free with my Daughter, Sir.
Sir Pat.How! she here! now for a Peal from her eternal Clapper; I had rather be confin’d to an Iron-mill.
L. Kno.SureLucretiamerits a Husband of as much worth as your Nephew, Sir.
Sir Pat.A better, Madam, for he’s the leudest Hector in the Town; he has all the Vices of Youth, Whoring, Swearing, Drinking, Damning, Fighting,—and a thousand more, numberless and nameless.
L. Kno.Time, Sir, may make him more abstemious.
Sir Pat.Oh, never, Madam! ’tis in’s Nature, he was born with it, he’s given over to Reprobation, ’tis bred i’th’ bone,—he’s lost.
Lean.This is the first good Office that ever he did me.
L. Kno.What think you, Sir, if in defiance of your Inurbanity, I take him with all these Faults my self?
Sir Pat.How, Madam!
L. Kno.Without more Ambages, Sir, I have consider’d your former Desires, and have consented to marry him, notwithstanding your Exprobrations.
Sir Pat.May I believe this, Madam? and has your Ladyship that Goodness?—and hast thou, my Boy, so much Wit? Why, this is something now.—Well, he was ever the best and sweetest-natur’d Youth.—Why, what a notable Wag’s this? and is it true, my Boy, hah?
Lean.Yes, Sir, I had told you so before, had you permitted me to speak.
Sir Pat.Well, Madam, he is only fit for your excellentLadyship, he is the prettiest civillest Lad.—Well, go thy ways; I shall never see the like of thee; no—Ingenuously, the Boy’s made for ever; two thousand Pounds a Year, besides Money, Plate and Jewels; made for ever.—Well, Madam, the satisfaction I take in this Alliance, has made me resolve to give him immediately my Writings of all my Land inBerkshire, five hundred Pounds a year, Madam: and I wou’d have you married this Morning with my Daughter, so one Dinner and one Rejoicing will serve both.
L. Kno.That, Sir, we have already agreed upon.
Sir Pat.Well, I’ll fetch the Writings. Come,Isabella, I’ll not trust you out of my sight to day.Ex. SirPat.andIsab.
Lean.Well then, Madam, you are resolv’d upon this business of Matrimony.
L. Kno.Was it not concluded between us, Sir, this Morning? and at the near approach do you begin to fear?
Lean.Nothing, Madam, since I’m convinc’d of your Goodness.
L. Kno.You flatter, Sir, this is mere Adulation.
Lean.No, I am that wild Extravagant my Uncle render’d me, and cannot live confin’d.
L. Kno.To one Woman you mean? I shall not stand with you for a Mistress or two; I hate a dull morose unfashionable Blockhead to my Husband; nor shall I be the first example of a suffering Wife, Sir. Women were created poor obedient things.
Lean.And can you be content to spare me five or six nights in a week?
L. Kno.Oh, you’re too reasonable.
Lean.And for the rest, if I get drunk, perhaps I’ll give to you: yet in my drink I’m damn’d ill-natur’d too, and may neglect my Duty; perhaps shall be so wicked, to call you cunning, deceitful, jilting, base, and swear you have undone me, swear you have ravish’d from my faithful Heart all that cou’d make it bless’d or happy.
EnterLucretiaweeping.
L. Kno.How now,Lucretia!
Lucr.Oh Madam, give me leave to kneel before, and tell you, if you pursue the Cruelty I hear you’re going to commit, I am the most lost, most wretched Maid that breathes; we two have plighted Faiths, and shou’d you marry him, ’twere so to sin as Heaven would never pardon.
L. Kno.Rise, Fool.
Lucr.Never till you have given me backLeander, or leave to live no more.—Pray kill me, Madam; and the same Flowers that deck your nuptial Bed,
Shall serve to strow my Herse, when I shall lieA dead cold Witness of your Tyranny.
Shall serve to strow my Herse, when I shall lie
A dead cold Witness of your Tyranny.
L. Kno.Rise; I still design’d him yours.—I saw with pleasure, Sir, your reclination from my Addresses.—I have proved both your Passions, and ’twere unkind not to crown ’em with the due Præmium of each others Merits.Gives her toLean.
Lean.Can Heaven and you agree to be so bountiful?
L. Kno.Be not amaz’d at this turn,Rotat omnefatum.—But no more,—keep still that mask of Love we first put on, till you have gain’d the Writings: for I have no Joy beyond cheating that filthy Uncle of thine.—Lucretia, wipe your Eyes, and prepare forHymen, the Hour draws near.Thalessio,Thalessio, as theRomanscry’d.
Lucr.May you still be admir’d as you deserve!
Enter SirPatientwith Writings, andIsabella.
Sir Pat.How, MadamLucretia, and in Tears?
L. Kno.A little disgusted, Sir, with her Father-in-law, Sir.
Sir Pat.Oh, is that all? hold up thy Head, Sweet-heart, thy turn’s next.—Here, Madam, I surrender my Title, with these Writings, and with ’em my Joy, my Life, my Darling, myLeander.—Now let’s away, where’s Mr.Fainlove?
Isab.He’s but stept intoCheapside, to fit the Ring, Sir,and willbe here immediately.
Sir Pat.I have Business anon about eleven of the Clock, a Consultation of Physicians, to confer about this Carcase of mine.
Lean.Physicians, Sir, what to do?
Sir Pat.To do! why, to take their advice, Sir, and to follow it.
Lean.For what, I beseech you, Sir?
Sir Pat.Why, Sir, for my Health.
Lean.I believe you are not sick, Sir, unless they make you so.
Sir Pat.They make me so!—Do you hear him, Madam—Am not I sick, Sir? not I, SirPatient Fancy, sick?
L. Kno.He’ll destroy my Design.—How, Mr.Fancy, not SirPatientsick? or must he be incinerated before you’ll credit it?
Sir Pat.Ay, Madam, I want but dying to undeceive him, and yet I am not sick!
Lean.Sir, I love your Life, and wou’d not have you die with Fancy and Conceit.—
Sir Pat.Fancy and Conceit! do but observe him, Madam,—what do you mean, Sir, by Fancy and Conceit?
L. Kno.He’ll ruin all;—why, Sir,—he means—
Sir Pat.Nay, let him alone, let him alone, (with your Ladyship’s pardon)—Come, Sir,—Fancy and Conceit, I take it, was the Question in debate.—
Lean.I cannot prove this to you, Sir, by force of Argument, but by Demonstration I will, if you will banish all your cozening Quacks, and take my wholesome Advice.
Sir Pat.Do but hear him, Madam: not prove it!
L. Kno.Sir, he means nothing.—Not sick! alas, Sir, you’re very sick.
Sir Pat.Ay, ay, your Ladyship is a Lady of profound Knowledge.—Why, have I not had the advice of all the Doctors inEngland, and have I not been in continualPhysick this twenty Years:—and yet I am not sick! Ask my dear Lady, Sir, how sick I am, she can inform you.L.Kno.goes and talks toIsab.
Lean.She does her endeavour, Sir, to keep up the Humour.
Sir Pat.How, Sir?
Lean.She wishes you dead, Sir.
Sir Pat.What said the Rascal? wishes me dead!
Lean.Sir, she hates you.
Sir Pat.How! hate me! what, my Lady hate me?
Lean.She abuses your Love, plays tricks with ye, and cheats ye, Sir.
Sir Pat.Was ever so profane a Wretch! What, you will not prove this neither?
Lean.Yes, by demonstration too.
Sir Pat.Why, thou saucy Varlet, Sirrah, Sirrah, thank my Lady here I do not cudgel thee.—Well, I will settle the rest of my Estate upon her to morrow, I will, Sir; and thank God you have what you have, Sir, make much on’t.
Lean.Pardon me, Sir, ’tis not my single Opinion, but the whole City takes notice on’t: that I tell it you, Sir, is the Effect of my Duty, not Interest. Pray give me leave to prove this to you, Sir.
Sir Pat.What, you are at your Demonstration again?—come—let’s hear.
Lean.Why, Sir, give her frequent opportunities,—and then surprize her;—or, by pretending to settle all upon her,—give her your Power, and see if she do not turn you out of Doors;—or—by feigning you are sick to death—or indeed by dying.
Sir Pat.I thank you, Sir,—this indeed is Demonstration, I take it.Pulls off his Hat.
Lean.I mean but feigning, Sir; and be a witness your self of her Sorrow, or Contempt.
Sir Pat.Pauses.Hah—hum,—why, ingenuously, this may be a very pretty Project.—Well, Sir, suppose I followyour advice?—nay, I profess I will do so, not to try her Faith, but to have the pleasure to hear her conjugal Lamentations, feel her Tears bedew my Face, and her sweet Mouth kissing my Cheeks a thousand times; verily a wonderful Comfort.—And then, Sir, what becomes of your Demonstration?—
EnterWittmorewith the Ring.
Oh—Mr.Fainlove, come, come, you’re tardy, let’s away to Church.
EnterRoger.
Rog.Sir, here is DoctorTurboon, and those other Doctors your Worship expected.
Enter LadyFancyandBartholomew.
Sir Pat.The Doctors already!—well, bring ’em up; come, Madam, we have waited for your Ladyship,—bring up the Doctors,Roger.ExitRoger.
L. Fan.Wittmore, I have now brought that design to a happy Conclusion, for which I married this formal Ass; I’ll tell thee more anon,—we are observ’d.
L. Kno.Oh,Lodwick’scome!
EnterLodwick, MonsieurTurboon, Fat Doctor,Amsterdam,Leyden, SirCredulous.
Sir Pat.DoctorTurboon, your Servant, I expected you not this two hours.
Turb.Nor had ee com, Sir, bot for dese wordy Gentlemen, whos Affairs wode not permit dem to come at your hoar.
Sir Pat.Are they English pray?
Turb.Dis is, Sir,—Pointing toLod.an admirable Physician, and a rare Astrologer.—Dis speaks goodEnglish, bot aCollenderborn.Points to SirCred.
Sir Cred.What a pox, does the Fellow call me a Cullender?
Lod.He means aHigh-Dutch-manof the Town ofCollen, Sir.
Sir Pat.Sir, I have heard of your Fame.—Doctor, pray entertain these Gentlemen till my return, I’ll be with you presently.
Lod.Sir, I hope you go not forth to day.Gazing on his Face.
Sir Pat.Not far, Sir.
Lod.There is a certain Star has rul’d this two days, Sir, of a very malignant Influence to Persons of your Complection and Constitution.—Let me see—within this two hours and six minutes, its Malice will be spent, till then it will be fatal.
Sir Pat.Hum, reign’d this two Days?—I profess and things have gone very cross with me this two Days,—a notable Man this.
L. Kno.Oh, a very profound Astrologer, Sir, upon my Honour, I know him.
Sir Pat.But this is an Affair of that Importance, Sir,—
Lod.If it be more than Health or Life, I beg your pardon, Sir.
Sir Pat.Nay, no Offence, Sir, I beseech you, I’ll stay, Sir.
L. Kno.How! SirPatientnot see us married?
Sir Pat.You shall excuse me, Madam.
L. Fan.This was lucky; Oh Madam, wou’d you have my Dear venture out, when a malignant Star reigns! not for the World.
Sir Pat.No, I’ll not stir; had it been any Star but a malignant Star, I had waited on your Ladyship: but these malignant Stars are very pernicious Stars. Nephew, take my LadyKnowell, Mr.Fainlovemy Daughter; andBartholomewdo you conduct my Lady, the Parson stays for you, and the Coaches are at the Door.
Exeunt L.Kno.Lean.Wit.andIsab.L.FancyandBartholomew.
EnterBoy.
Boy.Sir, my Lady has sent for you.Exit.
Lod.Sir, I’ll be with you presently; SirCredulous, be sure you lug him by the Ears with any sort of Stuff till my return. I’ll send you a Friend to keep you in countenance.
Sir Pat.Please you to sit, Gentlemen?ExitLod.
Amst.Please you, Sir.To SirCred.who bows and runs back.
Sir Cred.Oh Lord, sweet Sir, I hope you do not take me—Nay, I beseech you, Noble Sir—Reverend Sir.Turning from one to t’other.
Leyd.By no means, Sir, a Stranger.
Sir Cred.I beseech you—Scavantissimi Doctores,—incomparable Sir,—and you—or you.
Fat D.In troth, Sir, these Compliments are needless, I am something corpulent, and love my ease.Sits.
Sir Cred.Generous Sir, you say well; thereforeConlicentia, as theGrecianshave it.Sits.
Amst.—Brother.—
Leyd.Nay, good Brother,—SirPatient—
Sir Pat.Ingenuously, not before you, Mr. Doctor.
Leyd.Excuse me, Sir, an Alderman, and a Knight.—
Sir Pat.Both below the least of the learned Society.
Leyd.Since you will have it so.All sit and cry hum,—and look gravely.
Sir Cred.Hum—hum, most Worthy, and most Renowned—Medicinæ Professores, qui hic assemblati estis, & vos altri Messiores; I am now going to make a Motion for the publick Good of us all, but will do nothing without your Doctorships Approbation.
Sir Pat.Judiciously concluded.
Sir Cred.The question then is,Reverentissimi Doctores, whether—for mark me, I come to the matter in hand, hating long Circumstances of Words; there being no necessity, as our learned BrotherRabelaisobserves in that most notorious Treatise of his call’dGaragantua; there is, says he, no necessity of going over the Hedge when the Path lies fair before ye: therefore, as I said before,I now say again, coming to my Question; for as that admirableWelchDivine says, in that so famous Sermon of his, upon her Creat CranfatherHadamand her Creat CranmotherHeeveconcerning the Happell,—and her will, warrant her, her will keep her to her Text still,—so I stick close to my question, which is,Illustrissimi Doctores, whether it be not necessary to the Affair in hand—to take—a Bottle; and if your Doctorships are of my opinion—hold up your Thumbs.All hold up their Thumbs.
—Look, Sir, you observe the Votes of the learnedCabalists.
Sir Pat.Which shall be put in Act forthwith—I like this Man well, he does nothing without matureDeliberation.
EnterBrunswick.
Brun.By your leaves, Gentlemen—SirCredulous—Whispers.
Sir Cred.Oh—’tisLodwick’sFriend, the Rascal’s dress’d likeVanderbergenin theStrand:—SirPatient, pray know this glorious Doctor, Sir.
Sir Pat.A Doctor, Sir?
Sir Cred.A Doctor, Sir! yes, and as eloquent a Doctor, Sir, as ever set Bill to Post: why, ’tis—the incomparable—Brunswick,High-DutchDoctor.
Sir Pat.You’re welcome, Sir,—Pray sit; ah.—Well, Sir, you are come to visit a very crazy sickly Person, Sir.
Brun.Pray let me feel your Pulse, Sir;—what think you, Gentlemen, is he not very far gone?—Feels his Pulse, they all feel.
Sir Cred.Ah, far, far.—Pray, Sir, have you not a certain wambling Pain in your Stomach, Sir, as it were, Sir, a—a pain, Sir.
Sir Pat.Oh, very great, Sir, especially in a Morning fasting.
Sir Cred.I knew it by your stinking Breath, Sir—and are you not troubled with a Pain in your Head, Sir?
Sir Pat.In my Head, Sir?
Sir Cred.I mean a—kind of a—Pain,—a kind of aVertigo, as theLatinscall it; and aWhirligigoustiphon, as theGreekshave it, which signifies inEnglish, Sir, a Dizzie-swimming kind—of a do ye see—a thing—that—a—you understand me.
Sir Pat.Oh, intolerable, intolerable!—why, this is a rare Man!
Fat D.Your Reason, Sir, for that?To SirCred.
Sir Cred.My Reason, Sir? why, my Reason, Sir, is this,HalytheMoore, andRabbi Isaac, and some thousands more of learnedDutchmen, observe your dull Wall Eye and your Whir—Whirligigoustiphon, to be inseparable.
Brun.A most learned Reason!
Fat D.Oh, Sir, inseparable.
Sir Cred.And have you not a kind of a—something—do ye mark me, when you make Water, a kind of a stopping—and—a—do ye conceive me, I have forgot theEnglishTerm, Sir, but in Latin ’tis aStronggullionibus.
Sir Pat.Oh, Sir, most extremely, ’tis that which makes me desperate, Sir.
Sir Cred.Your ugly Face is an infallible Sign; yourDysurie, as theArabickscall it, and your ill-favour’d Countenance, are constant Relatives.
All.Constant, constant.
Sir Cred.Pray how do you eat, Sir?
Sir Pat.Ah, Sir, there’s my distraction. Alas, Sir, I have the weakest Stomach—I do not make above four Meals a-day, and then indeed I eat heartily—but alas, what’s that to eating to live?—nothing, Sir, nothing.—
Sir Cred.Poor Heart, I pity him.
Sir Pat.And between Meals, good Wine, Sweet-meats, Caudles,—Cordials and Mirabilises, to keep up my fainting Spirits.
Sir Cred.A Pox of his Aldermanship: an the whole Bench were such notable Swingers, ’twould famish the City sooner than a Siege.
Amst.Brothers, what do you think of this Man?
Leyd.Think, Sir? I think his Case is desperate.
Sir Cred.Shaw, Sir, we shall soon rectify the quiblets and quillities of his Blood, if he observes our Directions and Diet, which is to eat but once in four or five days.
Sir Pat.How, Sir, eat but once in four or five days? such a Diet, Sir, would kill me; alas, Sir, kill me.
Sir Cred.Oh no, Sir, no; for look ye, Sir, the Case is thus, do you mind me—so that the Business lying so obvious, do ye see, there is a certain Method, do ye mark me—in a—Now, Sir, when a Man goes about to alter the course of Nature,—the case is very plain, you may as well arrest the Chariot of the Sun, or alter the Eclipses of the Moon; for, Sir, this being of another Nature, the Nature of it is to be unnatural, you conceive me, Sir?—therefore we must crave your absence, Sir, for a few Minutes, till we have debated this great Affair.
Sir Pat.With all my heart, Sir, since my Case is so desperate, a few hours were not too much.Ex. SirPat.
Sir Cred.Now, Sir, my service to you.Drinks.
EnterFanny.
Fan.Oh living heart! what do all these Men do in our House? sure they are a sort of new-fashion’d Conventiclers:—I’ll hear ’em preach.They drink round the while.
Amst.Sir, my service to you, and to your good Lady, Sir.
Leyd.Again to you, Sir, not forgetting your Daughters: they are fine Women, Sir, let Scandal do its worst.Drinks.
Turb.To our better trading, Sir.
Brun.Faith, it goes but badly on, I had the weekly Bill, and ’twas a very thin Mortality; some of the better sort die indeed, that have good round Fees to give.
Turb.Verily, I have not kill’d above my five or six this Week.
Brun.How, Sir, kill’d?
Turb.Kill’d, Sir! ever whilst you live, especially those who have the grandVerole; for ’tis not for a Man’s Credit to let the Patient want an Eye or a Nose, or some other thing. I have kill’d ye my five or six dozen a Week—but times are hard.
Brun.I grant ye, Sir, your Poor for Experiment and Improvement of Knowledge: and to say truth, there ought to be such Scavengers as we to sweep away the Rubbish of the Nation.SirCred.andFatseeming in Discourse.
Sir Cred.Nay, an you talk of a Beast, my service to you, Sir—Drinks.Ay, I lost the finest Beast of a Mare in allDevonshire.
Fat D.And I the finest Spaniel, Sir.
Here they all talk together till you come to —purpose, Sir.
Turb.Pray, what News is there stirring?
Brun.Faith, Sir, I am one of those Fools that never regard whetherLewisorPhiliphave the better or the worst.
Turb.Peace is a great Blessing, Sir, a very great Blessing.
Brun.You are i’th right, Sir, and so my service to you, Sir.
Leyd.Well, Sir,Stetinheld out nobly, though the Gazettes are various.
Amst.There’s a world of Men kill’d they say; why, what a shame ’tis so many thousands should die without the help of a Physician.
Leyd.Hang ’em, they were poor Rogues, and not worth our killing; my service to you, Sir, they’ll serve to fill up Trenches.
Sir Cred.Spaniel, Sir! no Man breathing understands Dogs and Horses better than my self.
Fat D.Your pardon for that, Sir.
Sir Cred.For look ye, Sir, I’ll tell you the Nature of Dogs and Horses.
Fat D.So can my Groom and Dog-keeper; but what’s this to th’ purpose, Sir?
Here they leave off.
Sir Cred.To th’ purpose, Sir! good Mr.Hedleburgh, do you understand what’s to th’ purpose? you’reaDutchButter-ferkin, a Kilderkin, a Double Jug.
Fat D.You’re an ignorant Blockhead, Sir.
Sir Cred.You lye, Sir, and there I was with you again.
Amst.What, quarrelling, Men of your Gravity and Profession.
Sir Cred.That is to say, Fools and Knaves: pray, how long is’t since you leftToping and Napping, for Quacking, good BrotherCater-tray?—but let that pass, for I’ll have my Humour, and therefore will quarrel with no Man, and so I drink.—Goes to fill again.
Brun.—But, what’s all this to the Patient, Gentlemen?
Sir Cred.Ay,—the Wine’s all out,—and Quarrels apart, Gentlemen, as you say, what do you think of our Patient? for something I conceive necessary to be said for our Fees.
Fat D.I think that unless he follows our Prescriptions he’s a dead Man.
Sir Cred.Ay, Sir, a dead Man.
Fat D.Please you to write, Sir, you seem the youngest Doctor.ToAmst.
Amst.Your Pardon, Sir, I conceive there maybe younger Doctors than I at the Board.
Sir Cred.A fine Punctilio this, when a Man lies a dyingAside.—Sir, you shall excuse me, I have been a Doctor this 7 Years.They shove the Pen and Paper from one to the other.
Amst.I commenc’d atParistwenty years ago.
Leyd.And I atLeyden, almost as long since.
Fat D.And I atBarcelonathirty.
Sir Cred.And I atPadua, Sir.
Fat D.You atPadua?
Sir Cred.Yes, Sir, I atPadua; why, what a pox, do ye think I never was beyond Sea?
Brun.However, Sir, you are the youngest Doctor, and must write.
Sir Cred.I will not lose an inch of my Dignity.
Fat D.Nor I.
Amst.Nor I.
Leyd.Nor I.Put the Paper from each other.
Brun.Death, what Rascals are these?
Sir Cred.Give me the Pen—here’s ado about yourPaduasand Punctilioes.Sets himself to write.
Amst.Every morning a Dose of my PillsMerda queorusticon, or the Amicable Pill.
Sir Cred.Fasting?
Leyd.Every Hour sixscore drops ofAdminicula Vitæ.
Sir Cred.Fasting too?SirCred.writes still.
Fat D.At Night twelve Cordial Pills,Gallimofriticus.
Turb.Let Blood once a Week, a Glister once a day.
Brun.Cry Mercy, Sir, you’re aFrenchMan.—After his first Sleep, threescore restorative Pills, call’dCheatus Redivivus.
Sir Cred.And lastly, fifteen Spoonfuls of myAqua Tetrachymagogon, as often as ’tis necessary; little or no Breakfast, less Dinner, and go supperless to Bed.
Fat D.Hum, yourAqua Tetrachymagogon?
Sir Cred.Yes, Sir, myTetrachymagogon; for look ye, do you see, Sir, I cur’d the Arch-Duke ofStrumbuloof aGondileero, of which he dy’d, with this veryAqua Tetrachymagogon.
Enter SirPatient.
Sir Pat.Well, Gentlemen, am I not an intruder?
Fat D.Sir, we have duly consider’d the state of your Body; and are now about the Order and Method you are to observe.
Brun.Ay, this Distemper will be the occasion of his Death.
Sir Cred.Hold, Brothers, I do not say the occasion of his Death; but the occasional Cause of his Death.SirPat.reads the Bill.
Sir Pat.Why, here’s no time allow’d for eating, Gentlemen.
Amst.Sir, we’ll justify this Prescription to the whole College.
Leyd.If he will not follow it, let him die.
All.Ay, let him die.
EnterLodwickandLeander.
Lod.What, have you consulted without me, Gentlemen?Lod.reads the Bill.
Sir Pat.Yes, Sir, and find it absolutely necessary for my Health, Sir, I shou’d be starv’d: and yet you say I am not sick, Sir.ToLean.
Lod.Very well, very well.
Sir Pat.No Breakfast, no Dinner, no Supper?
Sir Cred.Little or none, but none’s best.
Sir Pat.But, Gentlemen, consider, no small thing?
All.Nothing, nothing.
Sir Cred.Sir, you must write for your Fee.ToLod.
Lod.Now I think on’t, Sir, you may eatWrites.
a roasted Pippin cold upon a Vine-leaf, at night.
Lean.Do you see, Sir, what damn’d canting Rascals these Doctors are?
Sir Pat.Ay, ay, if all Doctors were such, ingenuously, I shou’d soon be weary of Physick.
Lean.Give ’em their Fees, Sir, and send ’em to the Devil for a Company of Cheats.
Sir Pat.Truth is, there is no faith in ’em,—well, I thank you for your Care and Pains.Gives ’em Fees.
Sir Cred.Sir, if you have any occasion for me, I live at the red-colour’d Lanthorn, with eleven Candles in’t, in theStrand; where you may come in privately, and need not be ashamed, I having no Creature in my House but my self, and my whole Family.—