Three Hours after Marriage Part 17

Thus Cleopatra, in desiring arms, Receives her Anthony----But prithee dear pickled Hieroglyphic, who so suddenly could a.s.sist thee with this shape.

_Plot._ The play-house can dress mummies, bears, lions, crocodiles, and all the monsters of Lybia. My arms madam are ready to break their past-board prison to embrace you.

_Town._ Not so hasty. Stay till the jealous fool is out of sight.

_Plot._ Our ill stars, and the devil, have brought him back so often

_Town._ He can never parry this blow, nor grow jealous of his mummy. A mummy is his intimate friend.

_Plot._ And a man cannot easily be cuckolded by any body else.

_Town._ Here may'st thou remain the ornament of his study, and the support of his old age. Thou shalt divert his company and be a father to his children. I will bring thee legs of pullets, remnants of tarts, and fragments of desarts. Thou shalt be fed like Bell and the Dragon.

_Plot._ But madam; before you entertain me as your mummy in ordinary, you ought to be acquainted with my abilities to discharge that office.

Let me slip off this habit of death, you shall find I have some symptoms of life.----Thus Jove within the milk-white swan compress'd his Leda.

[_Underplot in the Alligator crawls forward, then rises up and embraces her._]

_Underp._

Thus Jove within the serpents scaly folds, Twin'd round the Macedonian queen,

_Town._ Ah!

[_shrieks._

_Plot._ Fear not, madam. This is my evil genius Underplot that still haunts me. How the devil got you here?

_Underp._ Why should not the play-house lend me a crocodile as well as you a mummy?

_Town._ How unlucky is this! [_Aside._] Nay, I don't know but I may have twenty lovers in this collection. You snakes, sharks, monkeys, and mantygers, speak, and put in your claim before it is too late.

_Underp._ Mr. Mummy, your humble servant; the lady is pre-engag'd.

_Plot._ Pray, Mr. Crocodile, let the lady make her own choice.

_Underp._ Crocodile as I am, I must be treated with common humanity. You can't, madam, disown the message you sent me.

_Town._ Well! ye pair of Egyptian lovers, agree this matter between you, and I will acquit myself like a person of honour to you both.

_Plot._ Madam! If I don't love you above all your s.e.x, may I be banish'd the studies of virtuoso's; and smoak'd like dutch beef in a chimney----

_Underp._ If I don't love you more than that stale mummy, may I never more be proclaim'd at a show of monsters, by the sound of a gla.s.s-trumpet.

_Plot._ May I be sent to 'Pothecary's-hall, and beat up into venice treacle for the fleet and the army, if this heart----

_Underp._ May I be stuff'd with straw, and given to a mountebank, if this soul----

_Plot._ Madam I am a human creature. Taste my balsamick kiss.

_Underp._ A lover in swadling-clouts! What is his kiss, to my embrace?

_Plot._ Look upon me, madam. See how I am embroider'd with hieroglyphicks.

_Underp._ Consider my beautiful row of teeth.

_Plot._ My balmy breath.

_Underp._ The strong joints of my back.

_Plot._ My erect stature.

_Underp._ My long tail.

_Town._ Such a contest of beauty! How shall I decide it?

_Plot._ Take me out of my sh.e.l.l, madam, and I'll make you a present of the kernel.

_Underp._ Then I must be upon a level with him, and be uncrocodil'd.

_Town._ Keep both of you your shapes, and we are in no fear of a surprize from the doctor: If you uncase, his presence would undo us.

Sure never was any thing so unlucky--I hear his foot-steps; quick to your posts.

[_Mummy and Crocodile run to their places._

Enter FOSSILE, Dr. _Nautilus_, and Dr. _Possum_.

_Naut._ Much joy to the learned Dr. Fossile. To have a mummy, an alligator, and a wife, all in one day, is too great happiness for mortal man!

_Poss._ This an alligator! Alack a day, brother Nautilus, this is a mere lizard, an eft, a shrimp to mine.

_Naut._ How improving would it be to the female understanding, if the closets of the ladies were furnish'd, or, as I may say, ornamented and embellish'd with preserv'd b.u.t.terflies, and beautiful sh.e.l.ls, instead of China jars, and absurd Indian pictures.

_Town._ Now for a stratagem to bring off my unsuccessful pair of gallants.

[_Aside._

[_Exit Townley._

_Foss._ Ah, Dr. Nautilus, how have I languish'd for your feather of the bird Porphyrion!

_Naut._ But your dart of the Mantichora!

_Foss._ Your haft of the antediluvian trowel, unquestionably the tool of one of the Babel masons!

_Naut._ What's that to your fragment of Seth's pillar?