Oh—Mr. Fainlove, come, come, you’re tardy, let’s away to Church.
Enter Roger.
Rog. Sir, here is Doctor Turboon, and those other Doctors your Worship expected.
Enter Lady Fancy [and Bartholomew].
Sir Pat. The Doctors already!—well, bring ’em up; come, Madam, we have waited for your Ladyship,—bring up the Doctors, Roger. [Exit Roger.]
L. Fan. Wittmore, I have now brought that design to a happy Conclusion, for which I married this formal Ass; I’ll tell thee more anon,—we are observ’d.
L. Kno. Oh, Lodwick’s come!
Enter Lodwick, Monsieur Turboon, Fat Doctor, Amsterdam, Leyden, Sir Credulous.
Sir Pat. Doctor Turboon, your Servant, I expected you not this two hours.
Turb. Nor had ee com, Sir, bot for dese wordy Gentlemen, whos Affairs wode not permit dem to come at your hoar.