._ in a Chair.
[All follow but _Wittmore_; who going the other way, meets Sir
_Credulous_ and _Lodwick_, as before.

_Wit._ _Lodwick!_ the strangest unexpected News, Sir _Patient's_ dead!

Sir _Cred._ How, dead! we have play'd the Physicians to good purpose,
i'faith, and kill'd the Man before we administer'd our Physick.

_Wit._ Egad, I fear so indeed.

_Lod._ Dead!

_Wit._ As a Herring, and 'twill be dangerous to keep these habits
longer.

Sir _Cred._ Dangerous! Zoz, Man, we shall all be hang'd, why, our very
Bill dispatch'd him, and our Hands are to't,--Oh, I'll confess all.--
[Offers to go.

_Lod._ Death, Sir, I'll cut your Throat if you stir.

Sir _Cred._ Wou'd you have me hang'd for Company, Gentlemen? Oh, where
shall I hide my self, or how come at my Clothes?

_Lod._ We have no time for that; go get you into your Basket again, and
lie snug, till I have convey'd you safe away,--or I'll abandon you.--
[Aside to him.
'Tis not necessary he shou'd be seen yet, he may spoil _Leander's_
Plot.
[Aside.

Sir _Cred._ Oh, thank ye, dear _Lodwick_,--let me escape this bout, and
if ever the Fool turn Physician again, may he be choak'd with his own
_Tetrachymagogon_.

_Wit._ Go, haste and undress you, whilst I'll to _Lucia_.

[Exeunt _Lod._ and Sir _Cred._

As _Wittmore_ is going out at one Door, enter Sir _Patient_ and
_Leander_ at the other Door.

_Lean._ Hah, _Wittmore_ there! he must not see my Uncle yet.
[Puts Sir _Pat._ back.
[Exit _Wit._

Sir _Pat._ Nay, Sir, never detain me, I'll to my Lady, is this your
Demonstration?--Was ever so virtuous a Lady--Well, I'll to her, and
console her poor Heart; ah, the Joy 'twill bring her to see my
Resurrection!--I long to surprize her.
[Going off cross the Stage.

_Lean._ Hold, Sir, I think she's coming,--blest sight, and with her
_Wittmore_!
[Puts Sir _Pat._ back to the Door.

Enter Lady _Fancy_ and _Wittmore_.

Sir _Pat._ Hah, what's this?

L. _Fan._ Now, my dear _Wittmore_, claim thy Rites of Love without
controul, without the contradiction of wretched Poverty or Jealousy: Now
undisguised thou mayst approach my Bed, and reign o'er all my Pleasures
and my Fortunes, of which this Minute I create thee Lord, And thus begin
my Homage.--
[Kisses him.

Sir _Pat._ Sure 'tis some Fiend! this cannot be my Lady.

_Lean._ 'Tis something uncivil before your face, Sir, to do this.

_Wit._ Thou wondrous ki