The anatomist, or, The sham doctor written by Mr. Ravenscroft ; with The loves of Mars and Venus, a play set to music, written by Mr. Motteux ; as they are acted together at the New Theatre in Little Lincolns-Inn-Fields.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Enter Doctor.

Dr.

BEatrice, I say; where are you?

Enter Beatrice.

Beat.

Here, Sir, here.

Dr.

See all things are in order here in my Laboratory. Many Virtuosi will be here, to see my curious Dissection, and hear the lecture I intend to read on a dead Bo∣dy, which every moment I expect to be sent in from the place of Execution.

Beat.

Why do you choose this back Apartment at the end of the Garden? You us'd to do it in the Great Hall formerly.

Dr.

My Wife will have it so, and that's enough; the body may be brought in privately, at that back door, for so I order'd it: Besides, the wrangling disputations of self∣conceited, obstinate Physicians, who come to see my ope∣ration, will at this distance less disturb the Neighbourhood: they will maintain their notions with more noise, than Bet∣ters in a Cock-pit.

Beat.

'Tis observ'd you Doctors rarely agree in your opi∣nions, Sir, which makes some affirm, Physick itself is a very uncertain Science.

Dr.

That's true; bur yet the fault's not in the Art.

Bea.

It most be in the Professors then.

Dr.

And so it is; but this is not your business.

Bea.

I only speak my simple judgment sir.

Dr.

The Body will be here immediately: let 'em carry it into the Vault, 'tis cooler there: in the mean time I'll make some visits to my Patients who are near. Ha! Bea∣trice, let me see, what have you there?

Bea.

Where, Sir, What do you mean?

Dr.

There, Sirrah, there. Let's see those pretty Bubbies.

Bea.

Eye Sir, you make me blush.

Dr.

Faith I will see 'em; I and feel 'em too.

Bea.

You old men have such odd fancies in you.

Dr.

I am a Cock 'o'th' Game, you little Rogue.

Bea.

You strut, and crow, and clap your Wings indeed, but all to little purpose.

Dr.

Ah you unlucky Chitt! I cou'd, I cou'd—

Bea.

But you forget your Patients Sir.

Dr.

That's true indeed: 'well when I come again. Ex. Dr.

Bea.

I find all Husbands, old, and young, are still for variety; which is a certain sign of an ill stomach: well, if ever it be my fortune to Marry one who serves me so, I'll say no more, but that which is sauce for a Goose, shall be sauce for a Gander too.

Enter Crispin.

Crispin!

What brings you hither now?

Cris.

I have been almost half an hour hankering about the back door: I saw the Doctor come forth just now, and then I ventur'd to slip in.

Bea.

Secure that door then, while I fasten this; we will not'be surpriz'd: now what's the business?

Cris.

My Master, poor man's at his wits end, he walks and starts, then stops and muses, then he walks again: What Madam Angelica told him about his Father has di∣stracted him. I have a Letter for her.

Bea.

Give it me.

Cris.

Stay Beatrice, let me look on you a little: what hast thou been doing to thy self? I never saw thee so handsome in my life.

Bea.

Indeed?

Cris.

No indeed: thou hast stoln some of thy Lady's Wash; it can't be natural; come, let me try.

Bea.

Stand off, you fool.

Cris.

Now I think on't, I have not had one kiss since I came from the University.

Bea.

Keep your distance, you had best: I will not make you so familiar with me.

Cris.

Say you so: Harkee, Gentlewoman, what made you here alone with Mr Doctor? This place is very pri∣vate, at a convenient distance from the house too.

Bea.

One who was hang'd this morning is to be Dissect∣ed here: I must set every thing in order for it; the Body will be sent in presently.

Cris.

We have prepar'd another Entertainment for your Lady. Here, let me out quickly. Knocking.

Dr. within.

Open the door.

Bea.

What shall I do? it is my Master.

Cris.

Let me out I say.

Bea.

Here, come to the other door. Knocking at the other door.

Wife within.

Where are you? Beatrice?

Bea.

O Heaven! 'tis my Mistress, she's at the other door.

Cris.

The Devil she is.

Bea.

If she were not there, I would let you down into the Vault.

Dr. within.

Ho Beatrice! open the door I say.

Cris.

What will become or me?

Bea.

Here, here, lay your self at length upon this Ta∣ble: I'll say you are the dead Body sent from the Gallows.

Cris.

Oh Beatrice—

Bea.

No more; do as I bid you. Crispin lies at his full length on the Table. Beatrice open the door.

Enter Doctor.

Dr.

You made me wait sufficiently. I had forgot some Medicines I prepar'd; I must go up and fetch 'em.

Ex. Dr.

Bea.

Now I'll let in my Mistress.

Enter Wife.

Wife.

How were you employ'd, you could open the door no sooner?

Bea.

I was busie in taking in this Executed Body, I made all the haste I could.

Re-enter Doctor.

Dr.

How now, my dearest Love, what make you here?

Wife.

I came to see if all things' were in order as they should be.

Dr.

'Tis very well. Adieu, I am in haste.

Exit. Dr.

Wife.

Beatrice, set all his Instruments in order: my Daugh∣ter and I will make a visit: I do not love such sights, they make me melancholy.

Bea.

I'll be careful in your absence.

Exit Wife.

Now, Crispins, is my invention good?

Crispin rises.

Cris.

You've brought me bravely off; but I'll be gone for fear of an after-clap.

Dr. within.

Beatrice, Beatrice, open the door again.

Knocks.

Bea.

'Tis my Master, to the same postu••e quickly.

Cris.

The Devil take him.

Enter Doctor.

Dr.

I think I am bewitcht to day; I have taken the wrong Medicines. What's that there?

Bea.

The Body from the G••••••ows, Sir; the fellows that brought it would not carry it into the Vault.

Dr.

How came they to send him with his Cloaths on?

Bea.

They'll call for 'em to morrow.

Dr.

'Tis very well. Ha! the Body's warm: I have a mind to make an experiment immediately. Go, Beatrice, fetch me my Incision Knives, Amputation Knife, Dis∣membring Saw, with the Threads, Pins, and all the other Instruments I laid ready in my Closet.

Bea.

But Sir, your Patients expect you now.

Dr.

An hour or two hence will serve.

Bea.

Should any of 'em dye in the mean time?

Dr.

That's not my fault; if any of 'em are in so much danger, my visit will do 'em no good now.

Bea.

I have heard you say, Sir, a proper dose given at a lucky time—

Dr.

Go, bring me only my Incision Knife; for while the natural heat remains, I shall more easily come at the Lacteal Veins, which convey the Chyle to the Heart, for Sangui∣fication, or encrease of Blood.

Bea.

But, Sir, you won't begin the Anatomy before the Doctors come.

Dr.

Fetch it, I say.

Bea.

Well Sir, since I must.

Exit Bea.

Dr.

He's not ill shap'd, nor is he very ill featur'd; and yet his visage still retains much discontent and trouble. Well, all the Rules of Metoposcopy and Physiognomy are false, if this was not a Rogue that very well deserv'd hang∣ing. This Incision pleases me extremely; I'll open his Besly from the Xiphoid Cartilage, quite along to the Os ••ubis. I feel his Heart pant yet: If any of my fellow Phy∣sicians were here now, especially those who doubt the Harveyan Doctrine, I'd let 'em plainly see the Circulation of the Blood thro the Systole and Diastole.

Enter Surgeon.

Sur.

O Doctor! I am glad I have found you: My Lord is much worse since yesterday; you must visit him imme∣diately.

Dr.

I'll come anon; I am very busie now.

Sur.

My Lords so very ill, you must go with all speed to him.

Dr.

Go you before I say, and let him blood, I'll be with him in an hour.

Sur.

Sure Bleeding can't be proper in his circumstances.

Dr.

I say let him blood: Sure I know what I do.

Sur.

His case is alter'd much, Sir, since you saw him.

Dr.

Once more, I say, go bleed him.

Sur.

But Sir—

Dr.

Bleed him, I say: 'Tis fine indeed when Surgeons shall teach Physicians.

Sur.

I will not Bleed him, I am sure it will be his death: Let who will do it for me; and so farewel.

Exit Sur.

Dr.

Farewel, Sir, if you won't, another shall.

Enter Beatrice, who was listning.

Bea.

I have been looking all about Sir, and cannot find your Incision Knife: Besides, Sir, a fine Lady call'd at the door just now, in a great Gilt Coach, and charg'd me to send you to my Lord's immediately.

Dr.

Ha!

Bea.

In haste Sir, in all haste.

Dr.

Sayst thou—

Bea.

He's dying Sir, he's dying.

Dr.

What shou'd I go for then?—

Bea.

You must go Sir, you shall go—you are sent for.

Dr.

The Devil's in the Wench—

She turns him round.

Bea.

They are in haste, in haste Sir.

Dr.

Well I go then: Let the Body be carry'd into the Vault.

Bea.

It shall, Sir; but lose no more time: be gone. So, joy go with you.

She turns him out.

Cris.

And I, without more words, will be gone pre∣sently.

Bea.

Whither in such haste?

Cris.

Whither, with a vengeance! Let me out I say: you must fetch the Incision Knife, with a pox t' ye, and all the other damnable Instruments, to rip me up alive, and make minc'd meat of me! A curse on his Systol and Dy∣astole.

Bea.

You are mistaken, Crispin: when I went out I did not go to fetch the Instruments, I went to hide 'em, where I was sure he cou'd never find 'em.

Cris.

I thought indeed, you could not have the heart to see a man who loves you as I do, so barbarously dismem∣bred; and therefore I lay still.

Bea.

Well, stay here a while; I'll run and give Angelica the Letter, and return instantly.

Cris.

I beg your pardon, I'll stay no longer in this room.

Beat.

Why so?

Cris.

The very thought of that damn'd Incision Knife puts me into a cold sweat? I'll stay for you in the street.

Beat.

Away, you sot.

Cris.

I had rather be a Sot than an Anatomy, I will not have my Flesh scrap'd from my Bones. I will not be hung up for a Skeleton in Barber-Surgeons-Hall▪

Beat.

Stay but a little.

Cris.

Yes in the street. There I shall not be in danger of your damn'd Amputation Knife, and your Dismembring Saw, with a pox to him.

Beat:

Alas! poor Crispin.

Cris.

Fear makes me think every thing I see an Instru∣ment to rip me up, from the Systole to the Dyastole.

Beat.

He had a mind to be acquainted with your inside, Crispin.

Cris.

The Devil pick his Bones for't. I shall never recover my self till I get out of this cursed place.

[Knocking again]

Ah! The Spirit's come again! Open the door, I'll rush out like a Lyon.

Bea.

Have a care, or you'll spoil all.

Cris.

If the Dr catches me here, he will spoil all. Am∣putation and Incision will spoil all.

Bea.

Come, lay your self upon the Table quickly; he has no Instruments.

Cris

Not I; for ought I know, he may have some about him, his Pockets may be fill'd with Knifes, Pins, Threads, Saws, and the Devil and all.

Bea.

Well thought on: Here hangs my Master's Gown and Cap, you shall strait put 'em on, and tell him you are a Physician, just come from the University, and under∣standing a dead Body was to be dissected by him, came to hear his Lecture.

Cris.

Where is the dead Body, fool?

Bea.

I'll tell him, 'tis carried into the Vault, as he com∣manded.

Cris.

Give me the Robes then: I'de rather act he Dr than the dead Body. So, now I hope I need not fear his peep∣ing into my Os Pubis, with a pox to him. Puts on the Gown.

Bea.

But if he should find out your ignorance!

Cris.

I'll venture that; the World bely's 'em, or there

are many great Physitians, as great Fools as my self. I have good natural Parts, Beatrice, if they scape but Incision and Amputation.

Bea.

So; now I'le let him in.

Enter a Waiting Woman.

Wait.

Is Mr Dr within?

Bea.

No.

Wait.

Why do you deny him to me? There he is.

Cris.

Well, what's your business with me, Mistress! Speak.

Wait.

My Lady has lost her little Lap-dog, which she lov'd better than any Relation in the World. She lays the fault on me, and grieves and takes on as if 'twere her only Child. I fear she'll grow Distracted if we find it not. Now, Sir, knowing that you are not only a learned Phy∣sitian, but that you understand Astrology and the like—

Cris.

Ay, ay, I understand one, as well as the other.

Wait.

Therefore, Sir, I bring you a Fee, and desire you to tell me some tidings of him.

Cris.

Have you brought the Dogs Water with you?

Wait.

His Water? the Dog's lost, Sir.

Cris.

Lost—why—ay, what then?

Bea.

The Rascal stumbles confoundedly—You do not mind, Sir, the Dog is not sick, he is lost.

Cris.

O ho—lost? how long since was he lost?

Wait.

Two days ago.

Cris.

At what hour?

Wait.

At eleven in the morning.

Cris.

What colour?

Wait.

Black and White.

Cris.

Enough, enough.

Wait.

Well, he's a rare Man, if he can tell me where to find the Dog.

Bea.

Never doubt him; he will do it certainly▪

Cris.

You say 'tis two days since?

Wait.

Yes, Sir.

Cris

About eleven a clock?

Wait.

Yes.

Cris.

Black and White?

Wait.

Very right, Sir.

Crisp.

Beatrice, what's in that Box there in your hand?

Beat.

Some Pills my Master gave me to lay up.

Cris.

O ho! Some Pills? Give me the Box.

Bea.

To what purpose?

Cris.

Hold your peace; here, take these Pill.

Wait.

For what, an't please your Worship?

Cris.

Your Lady's Dog is lost.

Wait.

Yes, Sir.

Cris.

And you would find him again?

Wait.

With all my heart.

Cris.

Take these Pills then.

Wait.

Will these Pills make me find the Dog again?

Cris.

Yes, they will make you find him; for they're of a very searching nature. There I was witty, Beatrice.

Wait.

But, Sir—

Cris.

Go, do as I bid you.

Wait.

Here are just five, Sir, must I take 'em all?

Cris.

Yes, all five, and all at once.

Wait.

There is your Fee, Sir, if these Pills help us to the Dog again, you'll have my Lady, and the whole Fa∣mily for your Patients▪ and so your Servant, Sir.

Ex. Wait.

Bea.

Ha Crispin! Is not this better than being a dead Body. You no sooner Commenc'd Doctor, but you got a Doctor's Fee.

[She shuts the Door.

Cris.

Two new Crown-pieces; 'tis a brave Trade in∣deed: Here a man gets his Money easily.

Beat.

I could not chuse but smile to hear your ignorance O sily! The Dog's Water? And what would you have done, but for my Box of Pills? Give Pills to find a Dog? Ha, Ha!

Cris.

What would you have a man do, who can neither write nor read? Come let me disrobe my self; I'll wait for you in the street.

[Knocking.

Bea.

Hark, some body knocks again.

Cris.

O Lord! If this should be the Dr?

Bea.

There's no remedy? You must brazen it out.

Enter Simon.

Sim.

Is Mr Doctor within?

Bea.

What's your business?

Sim.

I'de speak with him.

Bea.

From whom?

Sim.

Why from my zelf.

Bea.

Why do you know him, friend?

Sim.

I come to ask him one Question, and you ask me a score.

Bea.

He's not at home to every Body; therefore I must know.

Sim.

Then I neither know him, nor he me, I pray is he at home to receive Money? I bring a Fee.

Cris.

Who are you Friend?

Sim.

Why they call me at our Town, Simon the infant; but my name is Simon Burly.

Cris.

Well, what's your business? quick.

Sim.

I am told you re an Astrologer, as well as Dr.

Cris.

What then?

Sim.

Why then, I question you, an't please ye, whe∣ther Ailce Draper, a young Maid in our Town, that I love, has that love for me again as she pretends to have. Be∣cause there is an arch Attorney's Clark, that is often in her Company, and I don't know—

Cris.

Hold, what kind of Woman is she?

Sim.

Why, she is a sprightly, cleaver, well built Wench, with a fine featly Face, brown Hair, and a ruddy Com∣plection; a good crummy Lass, and treads well on her Pastons.

Cris.

Sprightly, proper, well built, featly Face, brown Hair, ruddy Complection'd; a crummy Lass, and treads well on her Pastons.

Sim.

Ay marry does she.

Cris.

Here, take these Pills.

Sim.

Pills?

Cris.

Yes, take'em.

Sim.

How, Pills?

Cris.

Yes of Pills. You must take the number Ten, because of your great Bulk.

Slus.

I have taken Pills to purge with-all; but, Wounds can they—

Cris.

Go to I say; they'll purge the Head, and clear the understanding wonderfully. Ours is a Science you know nothing of.

Beat.

Tell him they are Cephalick Pills. Bea▪ whispers him.

Cris.

Ay, ay; These are Cephalick Pills. But that is Heathen Greek to you: If you understood Latin, I could talk to the purpose to ye.

Sim.

I am a piece of a Scollard I must tell you. Intelligo, Domine, Linguam Latinam.

Cris.

Poh, poh, I know that; but that's Out-Landish La∣tin. There's several sorts of Latin: There's Law-Latin, Priests Latin, and Doctor's-Latin; as for example: Olo Pur∣gatum, Physicum, Vomit—um—guts—out—um—and so forth. Our Latin is quite another thing from School Latin.

Sim.

I think it may be so?

Cris.

Go, do as I bid ye.

Sim.

I had best give you your Fee first.

Cris.

I, I, that's well consider'd.

Sim.

Pills▪—.

Cris

Ay. Pills.

Sim.

Ten Pills.

Cris.

Just ten: Dispatch—away,

Sim.

If these should do the business—

Cris.

I understand you; I shall have more of your cu∣stom then; go, go, farewel—

Sim.

These knowing Men, your Lawyers, and Physiti∣ans, when they have once finger'd the Money, are so hasty to be rid of a man, they'll not give one word into the bargain: Good day to ye, Sir.

Cris.

The like to to you, Friend.

[Ex. Sim.

Two Crowns and half a Guinea got already; this is a gainful and no painful Trade.

Bea.

Learned Mr Dr, I must have snacks.

Cris.

And so thou shalt; there's my last Fee for thee, you cannot say but I deal nobly by you.

Bea.

—Thank you; this will buy Pins.

Cris:

—Hark!

[Knocking.

Bea.

There's more Fees coming.

Cris.

My heart misgives me. Ah, what will become of me! it is the Devil himself.

Enter Doctor.

Dr.

Have you done every thing as I order'd, Beatrice?

Bea.

Yes, Sir, the Body's carried into the Vault. Just before you came in this Gentleman, some Dr, I suppose of your acquaintance; I presume he intends to be present at your Anatomy Lecture.

Dr.

Sir. tho I have not the honour yet to know you, you are very welcom, Sir: I shall not begin my dissecton till to morrow morning; then if you please to honour me with your presence, you may, perhaps, hear something that is curious, and out of the common Road.

Cris.

I have heard much, Sir, of your great Abilities, and shall not fail you; for your reputation, Mr Dr, is a reputa∣tion—that— as I may say—or as—in fine, Sir, I will not fail to wait on you—

Bea.

Sir, if you please to retire out of this Room—

Dr.

By and by—I have not done with the Dr yet.

Dr.

Pray, Sir, let me consult with you a little, about the case of a sick person, who is my Patient now.

Cris.

Do me the honour to excuse me now; I have busi∣ness of mighty consequence, that requires my departure instantly,—but to morrow, Mr Dr—

Dr.

Stay a little, I'le give you his Case in two words. You must know, my Patient, Sir, has labour'd many months first under a Tertian, then under a Quartan, and now 'tis turn'd to a Quotidian: The Fever we have pretty well a∣bated, yet after all,—besides a great disposition he has to sleep, which very much fatigues him,—that which he spits from him, is very white—now, Sir, in my judgment that's an ill symptom, for a Pituita alba aqua inter cutem supervenit, says Hipocrates and this you know well enough, the Greeks call Leucophelgmateia—so then according to Hipocrates, this white spitting, or Pituita alha is an evident sign, that the Hydropsie, or Dropsie will succeed. Now, Sir, what say you is the most soveraign Remedy to be given in this Case to hinder this evil consequence?

Cris.

Why, Sir, I must tell you—but to what purpose? you have no need of my opinion, you are a man famous for understanding—so that—and as it were—in fine, I will not speak one word more to this purpose.

Dr.

Pray, Sir, speak freely; I shall be proud to have your opinion of this case▪

Cris.

No matter, Sir, for my opinion; for tho I know e∣nough –and all that—yet I had rather—

Dr.

I act openly, Sir, I am not like some Physitians that I know, so fond of my own opinion, Sir, that rather than consult with other Doctors, they'll let a Patient dye under their hands; therefore speak freely, I am prepar'd to give you my attention.

Cris.

Why then, Sir, in this sort of Malady, I do not know but that—or when—or as it may be very near this Case—or so, Sir—

Dr.

Humh—

Cris.

What think you of—a—dose of Pills?

Dr.

How! Pills, Sir? that would ruin all we have done.

Cris.

O you mistake me, Sir, I don't advise you, Sir, to give him Pills. I only mention'd, Sir, a dose of Pills which I had took my self this morning, Sir, which have not yet done working, and force me to leave you something abrupt∣ly, Sir.

Dr.

Pray let me know your. Lodging e're you go. I shall be glad of the honour of your acquaintance—and—

Cris.

I am grip'd most damnably—

Enter Wife, Angelica, and Beatrice.

Beat.

Quickly, Madam, or he'll be discover'd.

Wife.

Enough—O Husband—Husband, come away, have a care—have a care—

Dr.

Of what Wife?—

Wife.

Turn that ill look'd fellow out of Doors—away with him—let him not speak a word.

Cris.

Madam—

Wife.

Away with him—

Cris.

Madam—Madam—

VVife.

Away with him▪ away with him. away with him—

Cris.

Madam—Madam—Madam—Madam— Madam—

Beatrice and Angelica thrust out Crispin. He turning round is forced quite to the Door.

[Exit.

VVife.

Ah, dear Husband, you must excuse me for in∣truding so hastily—

Dr.

What was the matter, Wife?

VVife.

Did you know this Gentleman.

Dr.

I suppose him to be some young Callow Dr just wander'd from his Nest, the University.

Wife.

No, no, he's a High German Doctor—a Great Negromancer, a Conjurer, one that deals in the black Art, and raises Spirits—

Dr.

How do you know?—

Wife.

Some of our Neighbours that saw him come in at the back Door—came privately and told me so—and bid me have a care of him.—I was frighted almost out of my Wits—and shan't come to my self agood while—

Dr.

Oh Wife, fear nothing, 'tis but silly peoples talk.

Wife.

Indeed I am much frighted—

Dr.

Come, come, divert your self, and think no more on't.

VVife.

Ay, well thought on—Beatrice are the perfor∣mers ready to go on with their Musical Entertainment.

Beat.

Yes, Madam, they stay but for your coming.

VV.

Come then we'll go in, Husband you shall stay and sit with me—Musick has a strange influence o're me, that will bring me to my self agen.

Dr.

I will Wife?—

[Dr. VVife▪ Ang. Exeunt.

VVife.

Daughter, come you along with us.

Enter Crispin peeping in.

Cris.

Beatrice are they gone—

Beat.

What makes you here—I thought I had thrust you out of doors.

Cris.

You did so—but wondering what you all meant, I slip in agen—to listen—

Beat.

It was my contrivance to bring you off, you Blockhead, you had been discovered else—

Cris.

This was better however, than Incision, Dissection, and Amputation. Therefore now I'le be gone in earnest. I fairly have escap'd all these disasters,

And wou'd not run the Risque again for twenty Masters,

Beat.

Faint hearted, Crispin! In spight of all ill luck in Love's Hist'ries, I'de venture Limb and Life to serve my Mistress.

Here comes in the third Musical Entertainment.