Sir _Cred._ Sir, if you have any occasion for me, I live at the red-colour’d Lanthorn, with eleven Candles in’t, in the _Strand_; where you may come in privately, and need not be ashamed, I having no Creature in my House but my self, and my whole Family.-- _Ick quam Van Neder Landt te spreken End helpen Van Pocken end ander gebreken._ That’s a top of my Bill, sweet Sir. [Exeunt Doctors. _Fan._ Lord, Sir Father, why do you give ‘em Money? _Lean._ For talking Nonsense this Hour or two upon his Distemper. _Fan._ Oh lemini, Sir, they did not talk one word of you, but of Dogs and Horses, and of killing Folks, and of their Wives and Daughters; and when the Wine was all out, they said they wou’d say something for their Fees. Sir _Pat._ Say you so!--Knaves, Rogues, Cheats, Murderers! I’ll be reveng’d on ‘em all,--I’ll ne’er be sick again,--or if I be, I’ll die honestly of my self without the assistance of such Rascals,--go, get you gone.-- [To _Fan._ who goes out. _Lean._ A happy resolution! wou’d you wou’d be so kind to your self as to make a trial of your Lady too; and if she prove true, ‘twill make some kind of amends for your so long being cozen’d this way. Sir _Pat._ I’ll about it, this very minute about it,--give me a Chair.-- [He sits. _Lean._ So, settle your self well, disorder your Hair,--throw away your Cane, Hat and Gloves,--stare, and rowl your Eyes, squeeze your Face into Convulsions,--clutch your Hands, make your Stomach heave, so, very well,--now let me alone for the rest--Oh, help, help, my Lady, my Aunt, for Heavens sake, help,--come all and see him die. [Weeps. Enter _Wittmore_, Lady _Fancy_, _Isabella_, _Lucretia_, Lady _Knowell_, _Roger_, and _Nurse_. _Wit._ _Leander_, what’s the matter? _Lean._ See, Madam, see my Uncle in the Agonies of Death. L. _Fan._ My dearest Husband dying, Oh! [Weeps. _Lean._ How hard he struggles with departing Life! _Isab._ Father, dear Father, must I in one day receive a Blessing with so great a Curse? Oh,--he’s just going, Madam.-- [Weeps. L. _Fan._ Let me o’ertake him in the Shades below, why do you hold me, can I live without him? do I dissemble well?-- [Aside to _Wit._ Sir _Pat._ Not live without me!--do you hear that, Sirrah? [Aside to _Lean._ _Lean._ Pray mark the end on’t, Sir,--feign,--feign.-- L. _Kno._ We left him well, how came he thus o’th’ sudden? _Lean._ I fear ‘tis an Apoplexy, Madam. L. _Fan._ Run, run for his Physician; but do not stir a foot. [Aside to _Roger_. Look up, and speak but one kind word to me. Sir _Pat._ What crys are these that stop me on my way? L. _Fan._ They’re mine,--your Lady’s--oh, surely he’ll recover. [Aside. Your most obedient Wife’s. Sir _Pat._ My Wife’s, my Heir, my sole Executrix.