Three Hours after Marriage Part 5

[_Whenever Sarsnet goes to whisper her mistress, he gets between them._

Enter PTISAN.

_Ptis._ Mrs. Colloquintida complains still of a dejection of appet.i.te; she says that the genevre is too cold for her stomach.

_Foss._ Give her a quieting draught; but let us not interrupt one another. Good Mr. Ptisan, we are upon business.

[_Fossile gets between Sarsnet and Townley._

_Ptis._ The colonel's spitting is quite suppress'd.

_Foss._ Give him a quieting draught. Come to morrow, Mr. Ptisan; I can see no body till then.

_Ptis._ Lady Varnish finds no benefit of the waters; for the pimple on the tip of her nose still continues.

_Foss._ Give her a quieting draught.

_Ptis._ Mrs. Prudentia's tympany grows bigger and bigger. What, no pearl cordial! must I quiet them all?

_Foss._ Give them all quieting draughts, I say, or blister them all, as you please. Your servant Mr. Ptisan.

_Ptis._ But then lady Giddy's vapours. She calls her chamber-maids nymphs; for she fancies herself Diana, and her husband Acteon.

_Foss._ I can attend no patient till to morrow. Give her a quieting draught, I say.

[_Whenever Fossile goes to conduct Ptisan to the door, Sarsnet and Townley attempt to whisper; Fossile gets between them, and Ptisan takes that opportunity of coming back._

_Ptis._ Then, sir, there is miss Chitty of the boarding-school has taken in no natural sustenance for this week, but a halfpeny worth of charcoal, and one of her mittens.

_Foss._ Sarsnet, do you wait on Mr Ptisan to the door. To morrow let my patients know I'll visit round.

[_A knocking at the door._

_Ptis._ Oh, Sir; here is a servant of the countess of Hippokekoana. The emetick has over-wrought and she is in convulsions.

_Foss._ This is unfortunate. Then I must go. Mr. Ptisan, my dear, has some business with me in private. Retire into my closet a moment, and divert yourself with the pictures. There lies your way, madam.

[_To Sarsnet._

[_Exit Townley at one door and Sarsnet at the other._

Mr. Ptisan, pray, do you run before, and tell them I am just coming.

[_Exit Ptisan._

All my distresses come on the neck of one another. Should this fellow get to my bride before I have bedded her, in a collection of cuckolds, what a rarity should I make! what shall I do? I'll lock her up. Lock up my bride? my pace and my honour demand it, and it shall be so. [_Locks the door._] Thomas, Thomas!

Enter footman.

I dream't last night I was robb'd. The town is over-run with rogues. Who knows but the rascal that sent the letter may be now in the house?

[_Aside._] Look up the chimney, search all the dark closets, the coal hole, the flower-pots, and forget not the empty b.u.t.t in the cellar. Keep a strict watch at the door, and let no body in till my return.

[_Exit footman. A noise at the closet-door._

(_within._) Who's there?----I'm lock'd in. Murder! fire!

_Foss._ Dear madam, I beg your pardon.

[_Unlocks the door._ Enter TOWNLEY.]

'Tis well you call'd. I am so apt to lock this door; an action meerly mechanical, not spontaneous.

_Town._ Your conduct, Mr. Fossile, for this quarter of an hour has been somewhat mysterious. It has suggested to me what I almost blush to name; your locking me up, confirms this suspicion. Pray speak plainly, what has caused this alteration?

[_Fossile shews her the letter._

Is this all?

[_Gives him the letter back._

_Foss._ (reads) Either I mistake the encouragement I have had. What encouragement?

_Town._ From my uncle,----if I must be your interpreter.

_Foss._ Or I am to be happy to night.

_Town._ To be married.----If there can be happiness in that state.

_Foss._ I hope the same person.

_Town._ Parson. Only a word mis-pell'd.----Here's jealousy for you!

_Foss._ Will compleat her good offices. A she-parson, I find!

_Town._ He is a Welshman. And the Welsh always say her instead of his.

_Foss._ I stand to articles.

_Town._ Of jointure.

_Foss._ The ring is a fine one, and I shall have the pleasure of putting it on my self.

_Town._ Who should put on the wedding-ring but the bridegroom.

_Foss._ I beseech thee, pardon thy dear husband. Love and jealousy are often companions, and excess of both had quite obnubilated the eyes of my understanding.