Sir _Trem._ The Fable!

_Clink._ To you I answer,--

1st _Play._ The characters!

_Clink._ To you I answer--

Sir _Trem._ The diction!

_Clink._ And to you--Ah, hold, hold,--I'm butcher'd, I'm ma.s.sacred. For mercy's sake! murder, murder! ah!

[_faints._

_Enter Fossile peeping at the door._

_Foss._ My house turn'd to a stage! and my bride playing her part too!

What will become of me? but I'll know the bottom of all this, [_aside._]

I am surprized to see so many patients here so early. What is your distemper, Sir?

1st _Play._ The cholic, Sir, by a surfeit of green tea and d.a.m.n'd verses.

_Foss._ Your pulse is very high, madam. [_To Townley._] You sympathize, I perceive, for yours is somewhat feverish. [_To Plotwell._] But I believe I shall be able to put off the fit for this time. And as for you, niece, you have got the poetical itch, and are possess'd with nine devils, your nine muses; and thus I commit them and their works to the flames. [_Takes up a heap of papers and flings them into the fire._]

_Clink._ Ah! I am an undone woman.

_Plot._ Has he burnt any bank-bills, or a new Mechlin head-dress?

_Clink._ My works! my works!

1st _Play._ Has he destroyed the writings of an estate, or your billet doux?

_Clink._ A Pindarick ode! five similes! and half an epilogue!

2d _Play._ Has he thrown a new fan or your pearl necklace into the flames?

_Clink._ Worse, worse! The tag of the acts of a new comedy! a prologue sent by a person of quality three copies of recommendatory verses! and two Greek mottos!

_Foss._ Gentlemen, if you please to walk out.

2d _Play._ You shall have our positive answer concerning your tragedy, madam, in an hour or two.

[_Exit Sir Tremendous, Plotwell and Players._

_Foss._ Though this affair looks but ill; yet I will not be over-rash: What says Lybanius? 'A false accusation often recoils upon the accuser;'

and I have suffered already by too great precipitation.

[_Exit Fossile._

Enter SARSNET.

_Town._ A narrow escape, Sarsnet! Plotwells letter was intercepted and read by my husband.

_Sars._ I tremble every joint of me. How came you off?

_Town._ Invention flow'd, I ly'd, he believ'd. True wife, true husband!

_Sars._ I have often warned you, madam, against this superfluity of gallants; you ought at least to have clear'd all mortgages upon your person before you leas'd it out for life. Then, besides Plotwell, you are every moment in danger of Underplot, who attends on Plotwell like his shadow; he is unlucky enough to stumble upon your husband, and then I'm sure his shatterbrains would undo us at once.

_Town._ Thy wit and industry, Sarsnet, must help me out. To day is mine, to morrow is my husband's.

_Sars._ But some speedy method must be thought of, to prevent your letters from falling into his hands.

_Town._ I can put no confidence in my landlady Mrs. Chambers, since our quarrel at parting. So I have given orders to her maid to direct all letters and messages. .h.i.ther, and I have plac'd my own trusty servant Hugh at the door to receive them--but see, yonder comes my husband, I'll retire to my closet.

[_Exit Townley and Sarsnet._

Enter FOSSILE.

_Foss._ O marriage, thou bitterest of potions, and thou strongest of astringents. This Plotwell that I found talking with her must certainly be the person that sent the letter. But if I have a Bristol stone put upon me instead of a diamond, why should I by experiments spoil its l.u.s.tre? She is handsome, that is certain. Could I but keep her to myself for the future! Cuckoldom is an accute case, it is quickly over; when it takes place, it admits of no remedy but palliatives.----Be it how it will, while my marriage is a secret----

_Within._ Bless the n.o.ble doctor Fossile and his honourable lady. The city musick are come to wish him much joy of his marriage. [_A flourish of fiddles._

_Foss._ Joy and marriage; never were two words so coupled.

_Within._ Much happiness attend the learned doctor Fossile and his worthy and virtuous lady. The drums and trumpets of his majesty's guards are come to salute him----

[_A flourish of Drums and Trumpets._

_Foss._ Ah, Fossile! wretched Fossile! into what state hast thou brought thy self! thy disgrace proclaim'd by beat of drum! New married men are treated like those bit by a Tarantula, both must have musick: But where are the notes that can expell a wife!

_Exit._

ACT III.

Enter FOSSILE in a footman's cloaths,

_Foss._ A Special dog; this footman of my wife's! as mercenary as the porter of a first minister! Why should she place him as a centinal at my door? unquestionably, to carry on her intrigues. Why did I bribe him to lend me his livery? to discover those intrigues. And now, O wretched Fossile, thou hast debas'd thyself into the low character of a footman.

What then? G.o.ds and demi G.o.ds have a.s.sum'd viler shapes: they, to make a cuckold; I, to prove myself one. Why then should my metamorphosis be more shameful, when my purpose is more honest?

[_Knocking at the door, enter footman._]

_Foot._ Ay, this is her livery. Friend, give this to your mistress.