Isa. 'Tis strange;—and yet 'twere hard, sir, to suspect my cousin's virtue, since we know the house is haunted.
Non. 'Tis true, that nothing can be laid, though under lock and key, but it miscarries.
Isa. 'Tis not to be believed, what these villainous spirits can do: they go invisible.
Const. First, they stole away my prayer-book; and, a little after that, a small treatise I had against temptation; and when they were gone, you know, sir—
Isa. If there be such doings, pray heaven we are not all with child. 'Tis certain, that none live within these walls, but they have power of: I have reared Toby, the coachman, any time this fortnight.
Non. Out, impudence! A man with child! why 'tis unnatural.
Isa. Ay, so is he that got it.
Non. Thou art not in earnest?
Isa. I would I were not:—Hark! I hear him groan hither. Come in, poor Toby.
Enter TOBY, the coachman, with an urinal.