Three Hours after Marriage Part 20

_Town._ Mr. Mummy, you had best draw the curtains of your chair, or the mob's respect for the dead will scarce protect you.

[_Exit Plotwell in a chair._

_Clink._ My concern for him obliges me to go see that he gets off safe, lest any further mischief befalls the persons of our masque.

[_Exit Clinket._

_Fos._ Sweetly, Horace. _Nunquam satis_, and so forth. A man can never be too cautious. Madam, sit down by me. Pray how long is it since you and I have been married?

_Town._ Near three hours, Sir.

_Fos._ And what anxieties has this time produc'd? the dangers of divorce! calumniatory letters! lewd fellows introduc'd by my niece!

groundless jealousies on both sides! even thy virginity put to the touch-stone! but this last danger I plung'd thee in myself; to leave thee in the room with two such robust young fellows.

_Town._ Ay, with two young fellows! but my dear, I know you did it ignorantly.

_Fos._ This is the first blest minute of repose that I have enjoy'd in matrimony. Dost thou know the reason, my dear, why I have chosen thee of all womankind?

_Town._ My face, perhaps.

_Fos._ No.

_Town._ My wit?

_Fos._ No.

_Town._ My virtue and good humour.

_Fos._ No. But for the natural conformity of our const.i.tutions. Because thou art hot and moist in the third degree, and I myself cold and dry in the first.

_Town._ And so nature has coupled us like the elements.

_Fos._ Thou hast nothing to do but to submit thy const.i.tution to my regimen.

_Town._ You shall find me obedient in all things.

_Foss._ It is strange, yet certain, that the intellects of the infant depend upon the suppers of the parents. Diet must be prescrib'd.

_Town._ So the wit of one's posterity is determin'd by the choice of one's cook.

_Foss._ Right. You may observe how French cooks, with their high ragousts, have contaminated our plain English understandings. Our supper to night is extracted from the best authors. How delightful is this minute of tranquility! my soul is at ease. How happy shalt thou make me!

thou shalt bring me the finest boy!

[_A knocking at the door,_

No mortal shall enter these doors this day. [_knocking again._] Oh, it must be the news of poor lady Hippokekoana's death. Poor woman! such is the condition of life, some die, and some are born, and I shall now make some reparation for the mortality of my patients by the fecundity of my wife. My dear thou shalt bring me the finest boy!

Enter footman.

_Foot._ Sir, here's a seaman from Deptford must needs speak with you.

_Foss._ Let him come in. One of my retale Indian merchants, I suppose, that always brings me some odd thing.

Enter sailor with a child.

What hast thou brought me, friend, a young drill?

_Sail._ Look ye d'ye see, master, you know best whether a monkey begot him.

_Foss._ A meer human child.

_Town._ Thy carelessness, Sarsnet, has exposed me, I am lost and ruin'd.

O heav'n! heav'n! No, impudence a.s.sist me.

[_Aside._

_Foss._ Is the child monstrous? or dost thou bring him here to take physick?

_Sail._ I care not what he takes so you take him.

_Foss._ What does the fellow mean?

_Sail._ Fellow me no fellows. My name is Jack Capstone of Deptford, and are not you the man that has the raree-show of oyster-sh.e.l.ls and pebble-stones?

_Fos._ What if I am?

_Sail._ Why, then my invoice is right, I must leave my cargo here.

_Town._ Miserable woman that I am! how shall I support this fight! thy b.a.s.t.a.r.d brought into thy family as soon as thy bride!

_Fos._ Patience, patience, I beseech you. Indeed I have no posterity.

_Town._ You lascivious brute you.

_Fos._ Pa.s.sion is but the tempestuous cloud that obscures reason; be calm and I'll convince you. Friend, how come you to bring the infant hither?

_Sail._ My wife, poor woman, could give him suck no longer, for she died yesterday morning. There's a long account, master. It was hard to trace him to the fountain-head. I steer'd my course from lane to lane, I spoke to twenty old women, and at last was directed to a ribbon-shop in Covent-Garden, and they sent me hither, and so take the bantling and pay me his clearings.

[_Offers him the child._

_Fos._ I shall find law for you, sirrah. Call my neighbour Possum, he is a justice of peace, as well as a physician.

_Town._ Call the man back. If you have committed one folly, don't expose yourself by a second.

_Sail._ The gentlewoman says well. Come, master, we all know that there is no boarding a pretty wench, without charges one way or other; you are a doctor, master, and have no surgeons bills to pay; and so can the better afford it.

_Town._ Rather than you should bring a scandal on your character, I will submit to be a kind mother-in-law.