, 'twill make
some kind of amends for your so long being cozen'd this way.

Sir _Pat._ I'll about it, this very minute about it,--give me a Chair.--
[He sits.

_Lean._ So, settle your self well, disorder your Hair,--throw away your
Cane, Hat and Gloves,--stare, and rowl your Eyes, squeeze your Face into
Convulsions,--clutch your Hands, make your Stomach heave, so, very
well,--now let me alone for the rest--Oh, help, help, my Lady, my Aunt,
for Heavens sake, help,--come all and see him die.
[Weeps.

Enter _Wittmore_, Lady _Fancy_, _Isabella_, _Lucretia_, Lady
_Knowell_, _Roger_, and _Nurse_.

_Wit._ _Leander_, what's the matter?

_Lean._ See, Madam, see my Uncle in the Agonies of Death.

L. _Fan._ My dearest Husband dying, Oh! [Weeps.

_Lean._ How hard he struggles with departing Life!

_Isab._ Father, dear Father, must I in one day receive a Blessing with
so great a Curse? Oh,--he's just going, Madam.--
[Weeps.

L. _Fan._ Let me o'ertake him in the Shades below, why do you hold me,
can I live without him? do I dissemble well?--
[Aside to _Wit._

Sir _Pat._ Not live without me!--do you hear that, Sirrah?
[Aside to _Lean._

_Lean._ Pray mark the end on't, Sir,--feign,--feign.--

L. _Kno._ We left him well, how came he thus o'th' sudden?

_Lean._ I fear 'tis an Apoplexy, Madam.

L. _Fan._ Run, run for his Physician; but do not stir a foot.
[Aside to _Roger_.
Look up, and speak but one kind word to me.

Sir _Pat._ What crys are these that stop me on my way?

L. _Fan._ They're mine,--your Lady's--oh, surely he'll recover.
[Aside.
Your most obedient Wife's.

Sir _Pat._ My Wife's, my Heir, my sole Executrix.

L. _Fan._ Hah, is he in's Senses? [Aside to _Wit._
Oh my dear Love, my Life, my Joy, my All, [Crys.
Oh, let me go; I will not live without him.
[Seems to faint in _Wittmore's_ Arms. All run about her.

Sir _Pat._ Do ye hear that, Sirrah?

_Lean._ Have yet a little Patience, die away,--very well--Oh, he's
gone,--quite gone.
[L. _Fan._ swoons.

L. _Kno._ Look to my Lady there, [Swoons again.
--Sure she can but counterfeit. [Aside. [They all go about her.

Sir _Pat._ Hah, my Lady dying!

_Lean._ Sir, I beseech you wait the event. Death! the cunning Devil will
dissemble too long and spoil all,--here--carry the dead Corps of my
dearest Uncle to his Chamber. Nurse, to your Care I commit him now.

[Exeunt with Sir _Pat