Boy. Sir, the gravedigger of St. Timothy's-in-the-Fields would speak with you.
Sab. Let him come in.
Enter Gravedigger.
Grav. I carried home to your house the shroud the gentleman was buried in last night. I could not get his ring off very easily, therefore I brought the finger and all; and sir, the sexton gives his service to you, and desires to know whether you'd have any bodies removed or not. If not, he'll let 'em lie in their graves a week longer.
Sab. Give him my service, I can't tell readily; but our friend, tell him, Dr. Passeport, with the powder, has promised me six or seven funerals this week. I'll send to our country-farm at Kensington Gravel Pits, and our City-house in Warwick Lane for news; you shall know time enough. Harkee, be sure there's care taken to give my Lady Languishe's woman a fee to keep out that young fellow came last from Oxford; he'll ruin us all.
Enter Goody Trash.
I wonder, Goody Trash, you could not be more punctual, when I told you I wanted you, and your two daughters, to be three virgins to-night to stand in white about my Lady Katherine Grissel's body; and you know you were privately to bring her home from the man-midwife's, where she died in childbirth, to be buried like a maid; but there is nothing minded. Well, I have put off that till to-morrow; go and get your bag of brick-dust and your whiting. Go and sell to the cook-maids; know who has surfeited about town. Bring me no bad news, none of your recoveries again. And you, Mr. Blockhead, I warrant you have not called at Mr. Pestle's, the apothecary: Will that fellow never pay me? I stand bound for all the poison in that starving murderer's shop. He serves me just as Dr. Quibus did, who promised to write a treatise against water-gruel, a damned healthy slop, that has done me more injury than all the faculty. Look you now, you are all upon the sneer; let me have none but downright stupid countenances——I've a good mind to turn you all off, and take people out of the play-house; but, hang 'em, they are as ignorant of their parts as you are of yours, they never act but when they speak; when the chief indication of the mind is in the gesture, or indeed in case of sorrow in no gesture, except you were to act a widow, or so——But yours, you dolts, is all in dumb show; dumb show? I mean expressive eloquent show: As who can see such an horrid ugly phiz as that fellow's and not be shocked, offended, and killed of all joy while he beholds it? But we must not loiter——Ye stupid rogues, whom I have picked out of all the rubbish of mankind, and fed for your eminent worthlessness, attend, and know that I speak you this moment stiff and immutable to all sense of noise, mirth, or laughter [Makes mouths at them as they pass by him to bring them to a constant countenance]. So, they are pretty well—pretty well——
Enter Trusty and Lord Brumpton.
Tru. 'Twas fondness, sir, and tender duty to you, who have been so worthy and so just a master to me, made me stay near you; they left me so, and there I found you wake from your lethargic slumber; on which I will assume an authority to beseech you, sir, to make just use of your revived life, in seeing who are your true friends, and knowing her who has so wrought upon your noble nature as to make it act against itself in disinheriting your brave son.
Ld. B. Sure 'tis impossible she should be such a creature as you tell me——My mind reflects upon ten thousand endearments that plead unanswerably for her. Her chaste reluctant love, her easy observance of all my wayward humours, to which she would accommodate herself with so much ease, I could scarce observe it was a virtue in her; she hid her very patience.