Town. Leave it to me. Though he wants sense, he's handsome, and I like the fellow; and if he is lucky enough to come in my husband's absence.——But prithee Sarsenet make haste.
[Exit Townley and Sarsenet, upon which Fossile re-enters, to him Underplot.]
Underp. Harke'e, friend. I never talk with one of your coat, but I first tip him.
Foss. Behold the lucre of a pimp! Between the pox abroad, and my plague at home, I find a man may never want fees. [aside.] Your honour's commands, I pray. I long to serve you.
Underp. Ah, boy! thou hast a rare mistress for vails. Come I know thou art a sly dog; can'st thou introduce me to her for a moment's conversation?
Foss. Impossible.
Underp. What, still impossible?
[Gives more money.
Underp. Poh, pox. But prithee, friend, by the by, is there any thing in this report that she is marry'd to the doctor here?
Foss. I am afraid there is something in it.