this is no place for sick people. Begone, begone!

_Saint._ Verily, I can go no farther.

_Wood._ But you shall, verily. I will thrust you down, out of pure
pity.

_Saint._ Oh, my eyes grow dim! my heart quops, and my back acheth!
here I will lay me down, and rest me.
[_Throws herself suddenly down upon the Bed;_
TRICKSY _shrieks, and rises; Mrs_ BRAIN.
_rises from under the Bed in a fright._

_Wood._ So! here's a fine business! my whole seraglio up in arms!

_Saint._ So, so; if Providence had not sent me hither, what folly had
been this day committed!

_Trick._ Oh the old woman in the oven! we both overheard your pious
documents: Did we not, Mrs Brainsick?

_Mrs Brain._ Yes, we did overhear her; and we will both testify
against her.

_Wood._ I have nothing to say for her. Nay, I told her her own; you
can both bear me witness. If a sober man cannot be quiet in his own
chamber for her--

_Trick._ For, you know, sir, when Mrs Brainsick and I over-heard her
coming, having been before acquainted with her wicked purpose, we both