Fos. Welcome, my bride, into the habitation of thy husband. The scruples of the parson——
Town. And the fatigue of the ceremony——
Foss. Are at last well over.
Town. These blank licences are wonderful commodious.——The clergy have a noble command, in being rangers of the park of matrimony; produce but a warrant, and they deliver a lady into your possession: but I have no quarrel with them, since they have put me into so good hands.
Foss. I now proclaim a solemn suspension of arms between medicine and diseases. Let distempers suspend their malignant influence, and powders, pills, and potions their operations. Be this day sacred to my love. I had rather hold this hand of thine, than a dutchess by the pulse.
Town. And I this, than a hand of matadores.
Foss. Who knows but your relations may dispute my title to your person? come, my dear, the seal of the matrimonial bond is consummation.
Town. Alas! what will become of me!
Foss. Why are thy eyes fix'd on the ground? why so slow? and why this trembling?
Town. Ah! heedless creature that I was, to quit all my relations, and trust myself alone in the hands of a strange man.