_Town._ Leave it to me. Though he wants sense, he's handsome, and I like the fellow; and if he is lucky enough to come in my husband's absence.----But prithee Sarsenet make haste. [_Exit Townley and Sarsenet, upon which Fossile re-enters, to him Underplot._] _Underp._ Harke'e, friend. I never talk with one of your coat, but I first tip him. _Foss._ Behold the lucre of a pimp! Between the pox abroad, and my plague at home, I find a man may never want fees. [_aside._] Your honour's commands, I pray. I long to serve you. _Underp._ Ah, boy! thou hast a rare mistress for vails. Come I know thou art a sly dog; can'st thou introduce me to her for a moment's conversation? _Foss._ Impossible. _Underp._ What, still impossible? [_Gives more money._ _Foss._ Still impossible. _Underp._ Poh, pox. But prithee, friend, by the by, is there any thing in this report that she is marry'd to the doctor here? _Foss._ I am afraid there is something in it. _Underp._ What a spirit does a jealous husband give to an intrigue! Pray, is he not a most egregious silly animal? _Foss._ Not exceeding wise indeed, _Underp,_ Rich? _Foss._ He has money. _Underp._ That will save the expence of her gallants. Old? _Foss._ Ay, too old, heaven knows. _Underp._ How came it into the puppy's head to marry? _Foss._ By the instigation of Satan. _Underp._ I'll help the old fool to an heir. _Foss._ No doubt on't. If the whole town can do it, he will not want one. [_Aside._ _Underp._ Come, prithee deal freely with me, Has Plotwell been here since the wedding? _Foss._ He has! too sure: [_aside._] He's a dangerous rival to you; if you have a mind to succeed, keep a strict watch upon him, that he may not get admittance before you. _Underp._ Well since thou hast shown thyself so much my friend, I'll let thee into a secret. Plotwell and I no sooner heard of the wedding, but we made a bett of a hundred guineas, who should dub the doctor first. Remember you go twenty pieces with me. _Foss._ But here is some body coming. Away you are sure of my interest. [_Exit Underplot._ _Foss._ This was well judg'd. I have a small territory coveted by two rival potentates. It is profound policy to make them watch one the other, and so keep the ballance of power in my own hands. Certainly nothing so improves one's politicks, as to have a coquet to on'es wife, Enter a footman with a letter, _Foot._ This is for your lady, Deliver it safe into her own hands. [_Exit Footman._ _Fos._ [_reads._]