[Swallows 'em. -so- a comfortable business
this- three or four thousand pound in Cordial-Pearl: 'Sbud, Mark
Anthony was never so treated by his Egyptian Crocodile- hah, what
noise is that? Harl. Operator, Operator, Seignior. Feth. How, an
Operator! why, what the Devil makes he here? some Plot upon my Lady's
Chastity; were I given to be jealous now, Danger wou'd ensue- Oh, he's
entring, I would not be seen for all the World. Oh, some place of
Refuge- [Looking about. Harl. I know of none. Feth. Hah, what's this-
a Clock Case? Harl. Good, good- look you, Sir, do you do thus, and
'tis impossible to discover ye. [Goes into the Case, and shews him how
to stand; then Fetherfool goes in, pulls off his Periwig, his Head
out, turning for the Minutes o'th' top: his Hand out, and his Fingers
pointing to a Figure. Enter Shift and Hunt. Feth. Oh Heaven, he's
here. Shift. See where she sleeps; get you about your business, see
your own little Marmoset and the Priest be ready, that we may marry
and consummate before Day; and in the Morning our Friends shall see us
abed together, give us the good morrow, and the Work's done. [Ex.
Hunt. Feth. Oh Traytor to my Bed, what a Hellish Plot's here
discover'd! [Shift wakes the Giant. Giant. Oh, are you come, my
Sweetest? Feth. Hah, the Mistress of my Bosom false too! ah, who wou'd
trust faithless Beauty- oh that I durst speak.
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