"SABLE. Ah! pox take some of our cits, the first thing after their death is to take care of their birth--let him bear a pair of stockings, he is the first of his family that ever wore one.... And you, Mr. Blockhead, I warrant you have not call'd at Mr. Pestle's the apothecary: will that fellow never pay me? I stand bound for all the poison in that starving murderer's shop: he serves me just as Dr. Quibus did, who promised to write a treatise against water-gruel, a healthy slop that has done me more injury than all the Faculty: look you now, you are all upon the sneer, let me have none but downright stupid countenances. I've a good mind to turn you all off, and take people out of the playhouse; but hang them, they are as ignorant of their parts as you are of yours.... Ye stupid rogues, whom I have picked out of the rubbish of mankind, and fed for your eminent worthlessness, attend, and know that I speak you this moment stiff and immutable to all sense of noise, mirth or laughter. [_Makes mouths at them as they pass by him to bring them to a constant countenance_.] So, they are pretty well--pretty well." [_Exit_. * * * * * When the stage is clear Lord Brumpton and his servant Trusty enter. The former has wakened from his cataleptic trance, as the faithful Trusty watched beside him, and is horrified to learn of Lady Brumpton's lack of grief. But hush; he will conceal himself, for here comes my lady, accompanied by her woman and confidant, Mistress Tattleaid. * * * * * "_Enter_ WIDOW _and_ TATTLEAID, _meeting and running to each other_. "WIDOW. Oh, Tattleaid, his and our hour has come! "TAT. I always said by his church yard cough, you'd bury him, and still you were impatient.