_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!