_Fos._ Whither are you going so fast, hussy? I will examine every thing within these walls. [_Exit Prue._] [_reads._] 'For Richard Plotwell, esq;' This letter unravels the whole affair: As she is an unfortunate relation of mine, I must beg you would act with discretion. [_Gives Possum the letter._ _Pos._ [_reads_] 'Sir, the child which you father'd is return'd back upon my hands. Your Drury-lane friends have treated me with such rudeness, that they told me in plain terms I should be damn'd. How unfortunate soever my offspring is, I hope you at least will defend the reputation of the unhappy 'Phoebe Clinket.' ----As you say, doctor, the case is too plain; every circumstance hits. Enter CLINKET. _Clink._ 'Tis very uncivil, Sir, to break open one's letters. _Foss._ Would I had not; and that the contents of it had been a secret to me and all mankind for ever. Wretched creature, to what a miserable condition has thy poetry reduc'd thee! _Clink._ I am not in the least mortified with the accident. I know it has happen'd to many of the most famous daughters of Apollo; and to myself several times. _Foss._ I am thunderstruck at her impudence! several times! _Clink._ I have had one returned upon my hands every winter for these five years past. I may perhaps be excell'd by others in judgment and correctness of manners, but for fertility and readiness of conception, I will yield to nobody. _Foss._ Bless me, whence had she this luxuriant constitution! _Pos._ Patience, Sir. Perhaps the lady may be married. _Town._ Tis infamous, Mr. Fossile, to keep her in your house; yet though you turn her out of doors, use her with some humanity; I will take care of the child. _Clink._ I can find no _Denoüement_ of all this conversation. Where is the crime, I pray, of writing a tragedy? I sent it to Drury-Lane house to be acted; and here it is return'd by the wrong goùt of the actors. _Pos._ This incident has somewhat embarrassed us. But what mean you here, madam, by this expression? Your offspring. _Clink._ My tragedy, the offspring of my brain. One of his majesty's justices of the peace, and not understand the use of the metaphor! _Pos._ Doctor, you have used much artifice, and many demurrers; but the child must lie at your door at last. Friend, speak plain what thou knowest of this matter. _Foss._ Let me relate my story. This morning, I married this lady, and brought her from her lodgings, at Mrs. Chambers's, in King-street, Covent-Garden. _Sail._ Mrs. Chambers! To that place I was directed, where liv'd the maid that put the bantling out to be nurs'd by my wife for her lady; and who she was, 'tis none of our business to enquire. _Pos._ Dost thou know the name of this maid? _Sail._ Let me consider----Lutestring. _Foss._ Sarsnet, thou mean'st. _Sail._ Sarsnet, that's right. _Town._ I'll turn her out of my house this moment, Filthy creature!