L. _Fan._ This was lucky; Oh Madam, wou'd you have my Dear venture out, when a malignant Star reigns! not for the World.
Sir _Pat._ No, I'll not stir; had it been any Star but a malignant Star, I had waited on your Ladyship: but these malignant Stars are very pernicious Stars. Nephew, take my Lady _Knowell_, Mr. _Fainlove_ my Daughter; and _Bartholomew_ do you conduct my Lady, the Parson stays for you, and the Coaches are at the Door.
[Exeunt L. _Kno._ _Lean._ _Wit._ and _Isab._ L. _Fancy_ and _Bartholomew_.
Enter _Boy_.
_Boy._ Sir, my Lady has sent for you. [Exit.
_Lod._ Sir, I'll be with you presently; Sir _Credulous_, be sure you lug him by the Ears with any sort of Stuff till my return. I'll send you a Friend to keep you in countenance.
Sir _Pat._ Please you to sit, Gentlemen? [Exit _Lod._
_Amst._ Please you, Sir. [To Sir _Cred._ who bows and runs back.
Sir _Cred._ Oh Lord, sweet Sir, I hope you do not take me--Nay, I beseech you, Noble Sir--Reverend Sir.
[Turning from one to t'other.
_Leyd._ By no means, Sir, a Stranger.
Sir _Cred._ I beseech you--_Scavantissimi Doctores_,--incomparable Sir,--and you--or you.
_Fat_ D. In troth, Sir, these Compliments are needless, I am something corpulent, and love my ease.
[Sits.
Sir _Cred._ Generous Sir, you say well; therefore _Conlicentia_, as the _Grecians_ have it.
[Sits.
_Amst._ --Brother.--
_Leyd._ Nay, good Brother,--Sir _Patient_--
Sir _Pat._ Ingenuously, not before you, Mr. Doctor.
_Leyd._ Excuse me, Sir, an Alderman, and a Knight.--
Sir _Pat._ Both below the least of the learned Society.
_Leyd._ Since you will have it so.
[All sit and cry hum,--and look gravely.
Sir _Cred._ Hum--hum, most Worthy, and most Renowned--_Medicinae Professores, qui hic assemblati estis, & vos altri Messiores_; I am now going to make a Motion for the publick Good of us all, but will do nothing without your Doctorships Approbation.
Sir _Pat._ Judiciously concluded.
Sir _Cred._ The question then is, _Reverentissimi Doctores_, whether--for mark me, I come to the matter in hand, hating long Circumstances of Words; there being no necessity, as our learned Brother _Rabelais_ observes in that most notorious Treatise of his call'd _Garagantua_; there is, says he, no necessity of going over the Hedge when the Path lies fair before ye: therefore, as I said before, I now say again, coming to my Question; for as that admirable _Welch_ Divine says, in that so famous Sermon of his, upon her Creat Cranfather _Hadam_ and her Creat Cranmother _Heeve_ concerning the Happell,--and her will, warrant her, her will keep her to her Text still,--so I stick close to my question, which is, _Illustrissimi Doctores_, whether it be not necessary to the Affair in hand--to take--a Bottle; and if your Doctorships are of my opinion--hold up your Thumbs.
[All hold up their Thumbs.
--Look, Sir, you observe the Votes of the learned _Cabalists_.
Sir _Pat._ Which shall be put in Act forthwith--I like this Man well, he does nothing without mature Deliberation.
Enter _Brunswick_.
_Brun._ By your leaves, Gentlemen--Sir _Credulous_-- [Whispers.
Sir _Cred._ Oh--'tis _Lodwick's_ Friend, the Rascal's dress'd like _Vanderbergen_ in the _Strand_:--Sir _Patient_, pray know this glorious Doctor, Sir.
Sir _Pat._ A Doctor, Sir?
Sir _Cred._ A Doctor, Sir! yes, and as eloquent a Doctor, Sir, as ever set Bill to Post: why, 'tis--the incomparable--_Brunswick_, _High-Dutch_ Doctor.
Sir _Pat._ You're welcome, Sir,--Pray sit; ah.--Well, Sir, you are come to visit a very crazy sickly Person, Sir.
_Brun._ Pray let me feel your Pulse, Sir;--what think you, Gentlemen, is he not very far gone?-- [Feels his Pulse, they all feel.
Sir _Cred._ Ah, far, far.--Pray, Sir, have you not a certain wambling Pain in your Stomach, Sir, as it were, Sir, a--a pain, Sir.
Sir _Pat._ Oh, very great, Sir, especially in a Morning fasting.
Sir _Cred._ I knew it by your stinking Breath, Sir--and are you not troubled with a Pain in your Head, Sir?
Sir _Pat._ In my Head, Sir?
Sir _Cred._ I mean a--kind of a--Pain,--a kind of a _Vertigo_, as the _Latins_ call it; and a _Whirligigoustiphon_, as the _Greeks_ have it, which signifies in _English_, Sir, a Dizzie-swimming kind--of a do ye see--a thing--that--a--you understand me.
Sir _Pat._ Oh, intolerable, intolerable!--why, this is a rare Man!
_Fat_ D. Your Reason, Sir, for that? [To Sir _Cred._
Sir _Cred._ My Reason, Sir? why, my Reason, Sir, is this, _Haly_ the _Moore_, and _Rabbi Isaac_, and some thousands more of learned _Dutchmen_, observe your dull Wall Eye and your Whir--_Whirligigoustiphon_, to be inseparable.
_Brun._ A most learned Reason!
_Fat_ D. Oh, Sir, inseparable.
Sir _Cred._ And have you not a kind of a--something--do ye mark me, when you make Water, a kind of a stopping--and--a--do ye conceive me, I have forgot the _English_ Term, Sir, but in Latin 'tis a _Stronggullionibus_.
Sir _Pat._ Oh, Sir, most extremely, 'tis that which makes me desperate, Sir.
Sir _Cred._ Your ugly Face is an infallible Sign; your _Dysurie_, as the _Arabicks_ call it, and your ill-favour'd Countenance, are constant Relatives.
_All._ Constant, constant.
Sir _Cred._ Pray how do you eat, Sir?
Sir _Pat._ Ah, Sir, there's my distraction. Alas, Sir, I have the weakest Stomach--I do not make above four Meals a-day, and then indeed I eat heartily--but alas, what's that to eating to live?--nothing, Sir, nothing.--
Sir _Cred._ Poor Heart, I pity him.