Plot. Hoy de servant dere, make hast, bring de pan of hot coals; or de red hot iron to make application to de temples.
Enter Hugh.
Hugh. Here’s the poker red hot from the fire.
Plot. Very well make de burn dere, exactly dere.
[putting the poker near his head.
Underp. Hold, hold, am I to be murder’d? [starts up.] I know you, Plotwell, and was I not oblig’d by honour and friendship, I’d expose you to the doctor.
[aside to Plotwell.
Plot. Very lunatick, mad, fetch me de cord to make de tie upon de leg and de arm, take off thirty ounces of blood, and den plunge him into de cold bath.
Foss. Your judgment, doctor Lubomirski, is excellent, I will call my servants to assist us.
Underp. Hearke’e, old put; I came to take your advice, and not that French son of a whore’s scarrifications; and so plague take you both.
[Exit Underplot and Hugh.
ACT IV.
Enter Dr. Fossile, and Plotwell.
Foss. Doctor Lubomirski, this vial that you have intrusted into my custody, shall be with acknowledgment return’d after a few experiments; I must crave your indulgence; diseases, you know, Sir, are impertinent, and will tie themselves to no hours, poor lady Hyppokekoana!
Plot. Ah Sir! I beg your pardon, if you make visit to de patient, me will divert myself in your study till you make return.
Foss. That cannot be, I have a lady just coming to consult me in a case of secrecy.
Plot. Have you not de wife? me will make conversation wid de ladies till you come.
Foss. They see no company in the morning, they are all in deshabilleé; most learned doctor Lubomirski, your humble servant.
Plot. Most illustrious doctor Fossile, me be, with de profoundest adoration
Foss. With the greatest admiration
Plot. Your most humble
Foss. Most obedient servant.
Plot. Ah, Monsieur, point de ceremonie.
[Exit Plotwell.
Enter Hugh.
Foss. Hugh, bring me a pint of sack; let your mistress know I want to see her. Take care that her orders be obey’d, and that her trunks and boxes be immediately brought hither. Sarset will give you directions.
[Exit Hugh. Fossile sits down on a couch.
Ah Fossile! if the cares of two hours of a married life have so reduc’d thee, how long can’st thou hold out! to watch a wife all day, and have her wake thee all night! ‘twill never do. The fitigue of three fevers, six small poxes, and five great ones, is nothing to that of one wife. Now for my touch-stone; I will try it upon her presently. If she bear it to day — I am afraid she will bear it to morrow too.
Enter Hugh with a bottle of sack, and after him Townley. Hugh gives the bottle and glass to Fossile and exit.
Sit down by me, my dear, I was going to refresh myself with a glass of canary. You look pale. It will do you good.
Town. Faugh. Wine in the morning!
[Fossile drinks and fills again, and drops some of the liquor into the glass.]
What is the meaning of this? am I to be poison’d.
[aside.
Foss. You must drink it. Sack is sacred to Hymen; of it is made the nuptial posset.
Town. Don’t press me, Mr. Fossile, I nauseate it. It smells strangely. There is something in it.
Foss. An ill symptom! she can’t bear the smell. [aside.] Pray, my dear, oblige me.
Town. I’m for none of your flops. I’ll fill myself.
Foss. I must own, I have put some restorative drops in it, which are excellent. I may drink it safely. [aside.] [drinks.] The next glass I prepare for you.
[Fills, and powers some drops in.
[Townley drinks. Fossile runs behind to support her; then pores upon her cheek, and touches it with his finger.
Town. Your insolence is insupportable. ‘Twas but this moment you suspected my virtue; and now my complexion. Put on your spectacles. No red was ever laid upon these cheeks. I’ll fly thee, and die a maid, rather than live under the same roof with jealousy and caprice.
Foss. O thou spotless innocence! I cannot refrain tears of joy. Forgive me, and I’ll tell thee all. These drops have been a secret in our family for many years. They are call’d the touch-stone of virginity. The males administer it to the brides on their wedding-day; and by its virtue have ascertain’d the honour of the Fossiles from generation to generation. There are family customs, which it is almost impious to neglect.
Town. Had you married a person of doubtful reputation —— But me, Mr. Fossile!
Foss. I did not indeed suspect thee. But my mother obliged me to this experiment with her dying words — My wife is chaste: And to preserve her so, ‘tis necessary that I have none but chaste servants about her. I’ll make the experiment on all my female domesticks. [aside.] I will now, my dear, in thy presence, put all my family to the trial. Here! bid my niece, and all the maid-servants come before me.
[Calling out.
Enter Clinket, Prue, and Servants.
Give ear, all ye virgins: We make proclamation in the name of the chaste Diana, being resolv’d to make a solemn essay of the virtue, virginity, and chastity of all within our walls. We therefore advise, warn and precaution all spinsters, who know themselves blemish’d, not on any pretence whatsoever to taste these our drops, which will manifest their shame to the world by visible tokens.
Clink. I abominate all kind of drops. They interrupt the series of ideas. But have the any power over the virgin’s dreams, thoughts, and private meditations?
Foss. No. They do not affect the motus Primo-primi, or intentions; only actualities, niece.
Clink. Then give it me. I can drink as freely of it as of the waters of Helicon. My love was always Platonick.
[drinks.
Foss. Yet I have known a Platonick lady lodge at a mid wife’s.
[Fossile offers it round.]
1st Wom. I never take physick.
Foss. That’s one. Stand there. My niece professes herself a Platonick. You are rather a Cartesian.
Clink. Ah dear uncle! how do the Platonicks and Cartesians differ.
Foss. The Platonicks are for idea’s, the Cartesians for matter and motion.
Town. Mr. Fossile, you are too severe.
2d Wom. I am not a-dry. [curtsies.
Foss. There’s two. Stand there.
Prue. My mistress can answer for me. She has taken it.
Foss. She has. But however stand there, among the Cartesians.
3d Wom. My innocence would protect me, though I trod over red-hot iron. Give me a brimmer.
[She takes a mouthful and spits it out again.]
Foss. ‘Twas a presumptuous thing to gargle with it: but however, madam, if you please —— walk among the Cartesians.
[Two young wenches run away.
Clink. Prue, follow me. I have just found a rhime for my Pindarick.
[They all sneak off.
Fos. All gone! what no more ladies here? no more ladies! [looking to the audience,] O that I had but a boarding-school, or a middle gallery!
Enter Sarsnet, follow’d by two porters bearing a chest.
Set down the things here: there is no occasion for carrying them up stairs, since they are to be sent into the country to morrow.
[Exit porters.
What have I done? My marriage, these confounded whimsies, and doctor Lubomirski, have made me quite forget poor lady Hippokekoana. She was in convulsions, and I am afraid dead by this time.
[Exit Fossile.
Sars. I have brought you a present, madam, make good use of it. So I leave you together.
[Exit Sarsnet.
[Townley opens the chest: Plotwell, who was cover’d with a gown and petticoat, gets out.]
Town. Never was any thing so lucky. The doctor is just this minute gone to a patient.
Plot. I tempt dangers enough in your service. I am almost crippled in this chest-adventure. Oh my knees! Prithee, my dear, lead me to a bed where I may s
trech myself out.
[Leading her off.
Enter Sarsnet.
Sars. Oh madam! yonder is the doctor in deep discourse with Underplot: I fear he has dogg’d me, and betray’d us. The are both coming back together.
[Exit Sarsnet.
Plot. I’ll shrink snug into my shell again.
Town. That he may directly pop upon you. The trunk will be the first place he will examine, have you no presence of mind? You sit for an intrigue!
Plot. What shall I do?
Town. Fear not, you shall be invisible i th is very spot.
Plot. What do you mean? he’s just at the door. You intend to discover me.
Town. Mistrust me not: You shall walk out before his face at that very door, though he bring in a hundred spies, and not one of them shall perceive you.
Plot. Don’t trifle. Are you mad? [knocking at the door.] Nay, now ‘tis too late.
Town. Arm thyself with flounces, and fortify thyself with whalebone; enter beneath the cupulo of this petticoat.
Plot. The best security in the world! an old fellow has seldom any thing to do beneath that circumferance.
Town. No more but under it immediately.
[Plotwell goes under it.
Thus Venus, when approaching foes assail,
Shields her Æneas with a silken veil.
Enter Fossile.
Town. O my dear you come opportunely. How do you like my fancy in this new petticoat? there is something in it so odd!
Fos. You have another in your chest much odder. I want to see that.
Town. How jaunty the flounces!
Fos. Ay, ‘tis plain she would lure me from the chest; there I shall find him.
[aside.
Town. The lace! the fringe!
Fos. All this is nothing to the embroider’d sattin. Prithee, my dear, give me the key.
Town. Sure never was any thing so prettily disposed. Observe but the air of it: So degagee! But the lining is so charming.
[She walks to the door, and Fossile to the trunk. Plotwell kisses her out of the top of the petticoat, and then goes off.]
[As Fossile is cautiously opening the trunk with his sword drawn, Townley comes up to him.]
What, more of your frolicks, Mr. Fossile. What time of the moon is this?
Fos. This Underplot is a confounded villain, he would make me jealous of an honest civil gentleman, only for an opportunity to cuckold me himself. [aside.] Come, my dear, forget all that is past. I know —— I have proved thee virtuous. But prithee, love, leave me a moment; I expect some Egyptian rarities.
[Exeunt severally.
ACT V.
Enter Fossile with a vial in his hand.
Fos. This is all we have for the flying dragon so celebrated by antiquity. A cheap purchase! It cost me but fifteen guineas. But the Jew made it up in the butterfly and the spider.
Enter two porters bearing a Mummy.
Oh! here’s my mummy. Set him down. I am in haste. Tell captain Bantam, I’ll talk with him at the coffee-house.
[Exit porters.
Enter two porters bearing an Alligator.
A most stupendous animal! set him down.
[Exit porters.
Poor lady Hippokekoana’s convulsions! I believe there is fatality in it, that I can never get to her. Who can I trust my house to in my absence? Were my wife as chaste as Lucretia, who knows what an unlucky minute may bring forth! In cuckoldom, the art of attack is prodigiously improved beyond the art of defence. So far it is manifest, Underplot has a design upon my honour. For the ease of my mind, I will lock up my wife in this my musæum, ‘till my return.
Enter Townley, and Sarsnet.
You will find something here, my dear, to divert yourself.
Town. I hate the sight of these strange creatures; but since I am Mr. Fossiles wife, I shall endeavour to conquer my aversion.
Foss. Thou may’st safely be here to day, my dear; to-morrow thou shouldst no more enter this room than a pest-house. ‘Tis dangerous for women that are impregnated. But poor lady Hippokekoana suffers all this while.
[Exit Fossile with a key in his hand.
Town. Since he has lock’d me in, to be even with him, I’ll bolt him out.
[Plotwell dress’d like a Mummy, comes forward.
Plot. Thus trav’ling far from his Egyptian tomb,
Thy Anthony salutes his Cleopatra.
Town. Thus Cleopatra, in desiring arms,
Receives her Anthony —— But prithee dear pickled Hieroglyphic, who so suddenly could assist thee with this shape.
Plot. The play-house can dress mummies, bears, lions, crocodiles, and all the monsters of Lybia. My arms madam are ready to break their past-board prison to embrace you.
Town. Not so hasty. Stay till the jealous fool is out of sight.
Plot. Our ill stars, and the devil, have brought him back so often
Town. He can never parry this blow, nor grow jealous of his mummy. A mummy is his intimate friend.
Plot. And a man cannot easily be cuckolded by any body else.
Town. Here may’st thou remain the ornament of his study, and the support of his old age. Thou shalt divert his company and be a father to his children. I will bring thee legs of pullets, remnants of tarts, and fragments of desarts. Thou shalt be fed like Bell and the Dragon.
Plot. But madam; before you entertain me as your mummy in ordinary, you ought to be acquainted with my abilities to discharge that office. Let me slip off this habit of death, you shall find I have some symptoms of life. —— Thus Jove within the milk-white swan compress’d his Leda.
[Underplot in the Alligator crawls forward, then rises up and embraces her.]
Underp. Thus Jove within the serpents scaly folds,
Twin’d round the Macedonian queen,
Town. Ah! [shrieks.
Plot. Fear not, madam. This is my evil genius Underplot that still haunts me. How the devil got you here?
Underp. Why should not the play-house lend me a crocodile as well as you a mummy?
Town. How unlucky is this! [Aside.] Nay, I don’t know but I may have twenty lovers in this collection. You snakes, sharks, monkeys, and mantygers, speak, and put in your claim before it is too late.
Underp. Mr. Mummy, your humble servant; the lady is pre-engag’d.
Plot. Pray, Mr. Crocodile, let the lady make her own choice.
Underp. Crocodile as I am, I must be treated with common humanity. You can’t, madam, disown the message you sent me.
Town. Well! ye pair of Egyptian lovers, agree this matter between you, and I will acquit myself like a person of honour to you both.
Plot. Madam! If I don’t love you above all your sex, may I be banish’d the studies of virtuoso’s; and smoak’d like dutch beef in a chimney ——
Underp. If I don’t love you more than that stale mummy, may I never more be proclaim’d at a show of monsters, by the sound of a glass-trumpet.
Plot. May I be sent to ‘Pothecary’s-hall, and beat up into venice treacle for the fleet and the army, if this heart ——
Underp. May I be stuff’d with straw, and given to a mountebank, if this soul ——
Plot. Madam I am a human creature. Taste my balsamick kiss.
Underp. A lover in swadling-clouts! What is his kiss, to my embrace?
Plot. Look upon me, madam. See how I am embroider’d with hieroglyphicks.
Underp. Consider my beautiful row of teeth.
Plot. My balmy breath.
Underp. The strong joints of my back.
Plot. My erect stature.
Underp. My long tail.
Town. Such a contest of beauty! How shall I decide it?
Plot. Take me out of my shell, madam, and I’ll make you a present of the kernel.
Underp. Then I must be upon a level with him, and be uncrocodil’d.
Town. Keep both of you your shapes, and we are in no fear of a surprize from the doctor: If you uncase, his presence would undo us. Sure never was any thing so unluc
ky — I hear his foot-steps; quick to your posts.
[Mummy and Crocodile run to their places.
Enter Fossile, Dr. Nautilus, and Dr. Possum.
Naut. Much joy to the learned Dr. Fossile. To have a mummy, an alligator, and a wife, all in one day, is too great happiness for mortal man!
Poss. This an alligator! Alack a day, brother Nautilus, this is a mere lizard, an eft, a shrimp to mine.
Naut. How improving would it be to the female understanding, if the closets of the ladies were furnish’d, or, as I may say, ornamented and embellish’d with preserv’d butterflies, and beautiful shells, instead of China jars, and absurd Indian pictures.
Town. Now for a stratagem to bring off my unsuccessful pair of gallants.
[Aside.
[Exit Townley.
Foss. Ah, Dr. Nautilus, how have I languish’d for your feather of the bird Porphyrion!
Naut. But your dart of the Mantichora!
Foss. Your haft of the antediluvian trowel, unquestionably the tool of one of the Babel masons!
Naut. What’s that to your fragment of Seth’s pillar?
Poss. Gentlemen, I affirm I have a greater curiosity than all of them. I have an entire leaf of Noah’s journal aboard the ark, that was hewen out of a porphyry pillar in Palmyra.
[Fossile opens the case of the mummy.
Naut. By the formation of the muscular parts of the visage, I conjecture that this mummy is male.
Pos. Male, brother! I am sorry to observe your ignorance of the symetry of a human body. Do but observe the projection of the hip; besides, the bloom upon the face; ‘tis a female beyond all contradiction.
Fos. Let us have no rash dispute, brothers; but proceed methodically —— Behold the vanity of mankind! [pointing to the mummy.] Some Ptolemy perhaps! ——
Naut. Who by his pyramid and pickle thought to secure to himself death immortal.
Fos. His pyramid, alas! is now but a wainscot case.
Pos. And his pickle can scarce raise him to the dignity of a collar of brawn.
Fos. Pardon me, Dr. Possum: The musæum of the curious is a lasting monument. And I think it no degradation to a dead person of quality, to bear the rank of an anatomy in the learned world.
Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series Page 152
