Har. I feign myself ill! I could as soon feign myself a Roman Ambassador.——I was never ill in my life, but with the tooth-ach—when Letty's Mother was a breeding I had all the qualms.
Vill. Oh, I have no fears for you.—But what says Miss Hardy? Are you willing to make the irrevocable vow before night?
Let. Oh, Heavens!—I—I—'Tis so exceeding sudden, that really——
Mrs. Rack. That really she is frighten'd out of her wits—lest it should be impossible to bring matters about. But I have taken the scheme into my protection, and you shall be Mrs. Doricourt before night. Come, [to Mr. Hardy] to bed directly: your room shall be cramm'd with phials, and all the apparatus of Death;——then heigh presto! for Doricourt.
Vill. You go and put off your conquering dress, [to Letty] and get all your aukward airs ready—And you practise a few groans [to Hardy.]—And you—if possible—an air of gravity [to Mrs. Racket]. I'll answer for the plot.
Let. Married in jest! 'Tis an odd idea! Well, I'll venture it.
[Exit Letitia and Mrs. Racket.
Vill. Aye, I'll be sworn! [looks at his watch] 'tis past three. The Budget's to be open'd this morning. I'll just step down to the House.——Will you go?
Har. What! with a mortal sickness?
Vill. What a Blockhead! I believe, if half of us were to stay away with mortal sicknesses, it would be for the health of the Nation. Good-morning.—I'll call and feel your pulse as I come back.