Mir. Yes, yes. [Philidor is laid out like a corpse.
Phil. So, so, methinks my body lies
In great state, to see the tribe that will come
By-and-by; here will be half a dozen
Chief mourners, which should have been my wives, and
Some three or four sons and heirs, besides three
Or four hopeful daughters; these, with
The congregation of nurses, will howl me
A pleasant dirge. Mirida, you being my
Executrix, must carry yourself very gravely;
Here's my will, which you must read to 'em; I'll be
The priest myself. Hark, somebody knocks [Knocks within.
At the gate.
Enter Boy.
Boy. Sir, they are all
Come.
Phil. Let 'em in.—Now, Mirida, manage
Your business well.
Mir. Let me alone, I'll warrant ye.
Enter Ladies and Nurse.
All Ladies. Ah! my poor dear, dear.
All Nurses. Ah! my poor dear master! ah, child,
Cry for thy poor dad. [Kiss the hearse.
Phil. What a dog-kennel's here! how they howl! [Aside.