_Har._ You are in the right on't, Sir; it will not be consistent with my Pleasure or my Interest that you should live above a Fortnight; um--ay, in about a Fortnight I can do it. Let me see; ay, it is but pulling away a Pillow in one of your coughing Fits--or speaking properly to your Apothecary--a very little Ratsbane or Laudanum will do the Business! _Skin._ O monstrous! _Bell._ Madam, this is a behaviour unbecoming the Daughter of Lady Lovewealth, and what I am confident her Ladyship will highly resent. _Har._ You are mistaken, Sir; my Lady has consented to his Death in a Fortnight after our Marriage. _Skin._ O lud! O lud! _Har._ She begged hard for a Month, but I could not agree to it; so now the only Dispute between us is whether he shall be poisoned or strangled. _Skin._ O horrid! O terrible! So then it was agreed between you that I should be sent out of the World one way or t'other. _Har._ Yes Sir. What other Treatment could you expect, you who are a mere walking Hospital! an Infirmary! O shocking! Ha! ha! There's a Figure to go to bed with. (_Pointing at him and bursting into a Laugh_) _Skin._ I shall choke with Rage. Auh! Auh! _Bell._ Madam, I cannot stand by and see this Treatment.--If you use him thus before Marriage, what ought he to expect after it? _Har._ What? Why I have told him, Death! Death! Death! _Skin._ Ay, you have indeed, Madam, and I thank you for it, but it shall never be in your Power, either to strangle or poison me. Auh! Auh! I would as soon marry a she Dragon; Nephew, I beg you will turn her out--see her out of the House, pray. _Bell._ Madam, let me beg you will shorten your Visit. _Har._ O Sir, with all my Heart; I see you are a Confederate with your Uncle in this Affair, but I shall insist upon his Promise of Marriage; I can prove it, and assure yourself, Sir, if there be Law in Westminster Hall or Doctors Commons, you shall hear from me, and so your Servant, Sir. (_Goes off in a Passion_) _Skin._ Dear Nephew, see her out of the House; she has almost worried me to Death. (_Sits down_) (_Exit Bellair_) (_Enter_ LUCY) _Skin._ O Lucy, give me a little Inlap or Hartshorn or something to raise my Spirits. Had ever Man so happy an Escape? _Lucy._ Ay, Sir, you'd say it was a happy Escape indeed, if you knew all; why Sir, it is whispered everywhere that she had an Intrigue last Summer at Scarborough with a Captain of Horse. _Skin._ I don't in the least doubt it; she who could give Ratsbane or Laudanum to her Husband, I believe would not hesitate at a little Fornication. (SHARK _without, dressed like a Fox Hunter, drunk, knocking very loud and hollowing_) _Shar._ Haux, haux, haux, my Honies, Heyhe! House, where the Devil are you all? _Skin._ Bless us, who is it knocks so? ([_knocking_] _within_) _Lucy._ The Lord knows, Sir, some Madman I believe--It is Shark, I suppose. (_Aside_) (_Enter_ SHARK) _Shar._ Hey House! Family! Where are you all?