one, (with your Ladyship's
pardon)--Come, Sir,--Fancy and Conceit, I take it, was the Question in
debate.--

_Lean._ I cannot prove this to you, Sir, by force of Argument, but by
Demonstration I will, if you will banish all your cozening Quacks, and
take my wholesome Advice.

Sir _Pat._ Do but hear him, Madam: not prove it!

L. _Kno._ Sir, he means nothing.--Not sick! alas, Sir, you're very sick.

Sir _Pat._ Ay, ay, your Ladyship is a Lady of profound Knowledge.--Why,
have I not had the advice of all the Doctors in _England_, and have I
not been in continual Physick this twenty Years:--and yet I am not sick!
Ask my dear Lady, Sir, how sick I am, she can inform you.
[L. _Kno._ goes and talks to _Isab._

_Lean._ She does her endeavour, Sir, to keep up the Humour.

Sir _Pat._ How, Sir?

_Lean._ She wishes you dead, Sir.

Sir _Pat._ What said the Rascal? wishes me dead!

_Lean._ Sir, she hates you.

Sir _Pat._ How! hate me! what, my Lady hate me?

_Lean._ She abuses your Love, plays tricks with ye, and cheats ye, Sir.

Sir _Pat._ Was ever so profane a Wretch! What, you will not prove this
neither?

_Lean._ Yes, by demonstration too.

Sir _Pat._ Why, thou saucy Varlet, Sirrah, Sirrah, thank my Lady here I
do not cudgel thee.--Well, I will settle the rest of my Estate upon her
to morrow, I will, Sir; and thank God you have what you have, Sir, make
much on't.

_Lean._ Pardon me, Sir, 'tis not my single Opinion, but the whole City
takes notice on't: that I tell it you, Sir, is the Effect of my Duty,
not Interest. Pray give me leave to prove this to you, Sir.

Sir _Pat._ What, you are at your Demonstration again?--come--let's hear.

_Lean._ Why, Sir, give her frequent opportunities,--and then surprize
her;--or, by pretending to settle all upon her,--give her your Power,
and see if she do not turn you out of Doors;--or--by feigning you are
sick to death--or indeed by dying.

Sir _Pat._ I thank you, Sir,--this indeed is Demonstration, I take it.
[Pulls off his Hat.

_Lean._ I mean but feigning, Sir; and be a witness your self of her
Sorrow, or Contempt.

Sir _Pat._ [Pauses.] Hah--hum,--why, ingenuously, this may be a very
pretty Project.--Well, Sir, suppose I follow your advice?--nay,
I profess I will do so, not to try her Faith, but to have the pleasure
to hear her conjugal Lamentations, feel her Tears bedew my Face, and her
sweet Mouth kissing my Cheeks a thousand times; verily a wonderful
Comf