Chapter V: Act I: SCENE The Park (1)

Sir _George Airy_ meeting _Charles_.

_Cha._ Ha! Sir _George Airy!_ A Birding thus early, what forbidden Game rouz'd you so soon? For no lawful Occasion cou'd invite a Person of your Figure abroad at such unfashionable Hours.

Sir _Geo._ There are some Men, _Charles_, whom Fortune has left free from Inquietudes, who are diligently Studious to find out Ways and Means to make themselves uneasie.

_Cha._ Is it possible that any thing in Nature can ruffle the Temper of a Man, whom the four Seasons of the Year compliment with as many Thousand Pounds, nay! and a Father at Rest with his Ancestors.

Sir _Geo._ Why there 'tis now! a Man that wants Money thinks none can be unhappy that has it; but my Affairs are in such a whimsical Posture, that it will require a Calculation of my Nativity to find if my Gold will relieve me or not.

_Cha._ Ha, ha, ha, never consult the Stars about that; Gold has a Power beyond them; Gold unlocks the Midnight Councils; Gold out-does the Wind, becalms the Ship, or fills her Sails; Gold is omnipotent below; it makes whole Armies fight, or fly; It buys even Souls, and bribes the Wretches to betray their Country: Then what can thy Business be, that Gold won't serve thee in?

Sir _Geo._ Why, I'm in Love.

_Cha._ In Love--Ha, ha, ha, ha; In Love, Ha, ha, ha, with what, prithee, a _Cherubin!_

Sir _Geo._ No, with a Woman.

_Cha._ A Woman, Good, Ha, ha, ha, and Gold not help thee?

Sir _Geo._ But suppose I'm in Love with two--

_Cha._ Ay, if thou'rt in Love with two hundred, Gold will fetch 'em, I warrant thee, Boy. But who are they? who are they? come.

Sir _Geo._ One is a Lady, whose Face I never saw, but Witty as an Angel; the other Beautiful as _Venus_--

_Cha._ And a Fool--

Sir _Geo._ For ought I know, for I never spoke to her, but you can inform me; I am charm'd by the Wit of One, and dye for the Beauty of the Other?

_Cha._ And pray, which are you in Quest of now?

Sir _Geo._ I prefer the Sensual Pleasure, I'm for her I've seen, who is thy Father's Ward _Miranda_.

_Cha._ Nay then, I pity you; for the Jew my Father will no more part with her, and 30000 Pound, than he wou'd with a Guinea to keep me from starving.

Sir _Geo._ Now you see Gold can't do every thing, _Charles_.

_Cha._ Yes, for 'tis her Gold that bars my Father's Gate against you.

Sir _Geo._ Why, if he is this avaricious Wretch, how cam'st thou by such a Liberal Education?

_Cha._ Not a Souse out of his Pocket, I assure you; I had an Uncle who defray'd that Charge, but for some litte Wildnesses of Youth, tho' he made me his Heir, left Dad my Guardian till I came to Years of Discretion, which I presume the old Gentleman will never think I am; and now he has got the Estate into his Clutches, it does me no more good, than if it lay in _Prester John_'s Dominions.

Sir _Geo._ What can'st thou find no Stratagem to redeem it?

_Cha._ I have made many Essays to no purpose; tho' Want, the Mistress of Invention, still tempts me on, yet still the old Fox is too cunning for me--I am upon my last Project, which if it fails, then for my last Refuge, a Brown Musquet.

Sir _Geo._ What is't, can I assist thee?

_Cha._ Not yet, when you can, I have Confidence enough in you to ask it.

Sir _Geo._ I am always ready, but what do's he intend to do with _Miranda?_ Is she to be sold in private? or will he put her up by way of Auction, at who bids most? If so, Egad, I'm for him: my Gold, as you say, shall be subservient to my Pleasure.

_Cha._ To deal ingeniously with you, Sir _George_, I know very little of Her, or Home; for since my Uncle's Death, and my Return from Travel, I have never been well with my Father; he thinks my Expences too great, and I his Allowance too little; he never sees me, but he quarrels; and to avoid that, I shun his House as much as possible. The Report is, he intends to marry her himself.

Sir _Geo._ Can she consent to it?

_Cha._ Yes faith, so they say; but I tell you, I am wholly ignorant of the matter. _Miranda_ and I are like two violent Members of a contrary Party, I can scarce allow her Beauty, tho' all the World do's; nor she me Civility, for that Contempt, I fancy she plays the Mother-in-law already, and sets the old Gentleman on to do mischief.

Sir _Geo._ Then I've your free Consent to get her.

_Cha._ Ay and my helping-hand, if occasion be.

Sir _Geo._ Pugh, yonder's a Fool coming this way, let's avoid him.

_Cha._ What _Marplot_, no no, he's my Instrument; there's a thousand Conveniences in him, he'll lend me his Money when he has any, run of my Errands and be proud on't; in short, he'll Pimp for me, Lye for me, Drink for me, do any thing but Fight for me, and that I trust to my own Arm for.

Sir _Geo._ Nay then he's to be endur'd; I never knew his Qualifications before.

_Enter _Marplot_ with a Patch cross his Face._

_Marpl._ Dear _Charles_, your's,--Ha! Sir _George Airy_, the Man in the World, I have an Ambition to be known to (_aside_.) Give me thy Hand, dear Boy--

_Cha._ A good Assurance! But heark ye, how came your Beautiful Countenance clouded in the wrong place?

_Marpl._ I must confess 'tis a little _Mal-a-propos_, but no matter for that; a Word with you, _Charles_; Prithee, introduce me to Sir _George_--he is a Man of Wit, and I'd give ten Guinea's to--

_Cha._ When you have 'em, you mean.

_Marpl._ Ay, when I have 'em; pugh, pox, you cut the Thread of my Discourse--I wou'd give ten Guinea's, I say, to be rank'd in his Acquaintance: Well, 'tis a vast Addition to a Man's Fortune, according to the Rout of the World, to be seen in the Company of Leading Men; for then we are all thought to be Politicians, or Whigs, or Jacks, or High-Flyers, or Low-Flyers, or Levellers--and so forth; for you must know, we all herd in Parties now.

_Cha._ Then a Fool for Diversion is out of Fashion, I find.

_Marpl._ Yes, without it be a mimicking Fool, and they are Darlings every where; but prithee introduce me.

_Cha._ Well, on Condition you'll give us a true Account how you came by that Mourning Nose, I will.

_Marpl._ I'll do it.

_Cha._ Sir _George_, here's a Gentleman has a passionate Desire to kiss your Hand.

Sir _Geo._ Oh, I honour Men of the Sword, and I presume this Gentleman is lately come from _Spain_ or _Portugal_--by his Scars.

_Marpl._ No really, Sir _George_, mine sprung from civil Fury, happening last Night into the Groom-Porters--I had a strong Inclination to go ten Guineas with a sort of a, sort of a--kind of a Milk Sop, as I thought: A Pox of the Dice he flung out, and my Pockets being empty as _Charles_ knows they sometimes are, he prov'd a surly _North-Britain_, and broke my Face for my Deficiency.

Sir _Geo._ Ha! ha! and did not you draw?

_Marpl._ Draw, Sir, why, I did but lay my Hand upon my Sword to make a swift Retreat, and he roar'd out. Now the Deel a Ma sol, Sir, gin ye touch yer Steel, Ise whip mine through yer Wem.

Sir _Geo._ Ha, ha, ha,

_Cha._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, fase was the Word, so you walk'd off, I suppose.

_Marp._ Yes, for I avoid fighting, purely to be serviceable to my Friends you know--

Sir _Geo._ Your Friends are much oblig'd to you, Sir, I hope you'll rank me in that Number.

_Marpl._ Sir _George_, a Bow from the side Box, or to be seen in your Chariot, binds me ever yours.

Sir _Geo._ Trifles, you may command 'em when you please.

_Cha._ Provided he may command you--

_Marpl._ Me! why I live for no other purpose--Sir _George_, I have the Honour to be carest by most of the reigning Toasts of the Town, I'll tell 'em you are the finest Gentleman--

Sir _Geo._ No, no, prithee let me alone to tell the Ladies--my Parts--can you convey a Letter upon Occasion, or deliver a Message with an Air of Business, Ha!

_Marpl._ With the Assurance of a Page and the Gravity of a Statesman.

Sir _Geo._ You know _Miranda!_

_Marpl._ What, my Sister _Ward?_ Why, her Guardian is mine, we are Fellow Sufferers: Ah! he is a covetous, cheating, sanctify'd Curmudgeon; that Sir _Francis Gripe_ is a damn'd old--

_Char._ I suppose, Friend, you forget that he is my Father--

_Marpl._ I ask your Pardon, _Charles_, but it is for your sake I hate him. Well, I say, the World is mistaken in him, his Out-side Piety, makes him every Man's Executor, and his Inside Cunning, makes him every Heir's Jaylor. Egad, _Charles_, I'm half persuaded that thou'rt some _Ward_ too, and never of his getting: For thou art as honest a Debauchee as ever Cuckolded Man of Quality.

Sir _Geo._ A pleasant Fellow.

_Cha._ The Dog is Diverting sometimes, or there wou'd be no enduring his Impertinence: He is pressing to be employ'd and willing to execute, but some ill Fate generally attends all he undertakes, and he oftner spoils an Intreague than helps it--

_Marpl._ If I miscarry 'tis none of my Fault, I follow my Instructions.

_Cha._ Yes, witness the Merchant's Wife.

_Marpl._ Pish, Pox, that was an Accident.

Sir _Geo._ What was it, prithee?

_Ch._ Why, you must know, I had lent a certain Merchant my hunting Horses, and was to have met his Wife in his Absence: Sending him along with my Groom to make the Complement, and to deliver a Letter to the Lady at the same time; what does he do, but gives the Husband the Letter, and offers her the Horses.

_Marpl._ I remember you was even with me, for you deny'd the Letter to be yours, and swore I had a design upon her, which my Bones paid for.

_Cha._ Come, Sir _George_, let's walk round, if you are not ingag'd, for I have sent my Man upon a little earnest Business, and have order'd him to bring me the Answer into the Park.

_Marpl._ Business, and I not know it, Egad I'll watch him.

Sir _Geo._ I must beg your Pardon, _Charles_, I am to meet your Father here.

_Ch._ My Father!

Sir _Geo._ Aye! and about the oddest Bargain perhaps you ever heard off; but I'll not impart till I know the Success.

_Marpl._ What can his Business be with Sir _Francis?_ Now wou'd I give all the World to know it; why the Devil should not one know every Man's Concern. (_Aside_.

_Cha._ Prosperity to't whate'er it be, I have private Affairs too; over a Bottle we'll compare Notes.

_Marpl._ _Charles_ knows I love a Glass as well as any Man, I'll make one; shall it be to Night? Ad I long to know their Secrets. (_Aside._

_Enter _Whisper_._

_Whis._ Sir, Sir, Mis _Patch_ says, _Isabinda_'s Spanish Father has quite spoil'd the Plot, and she can't meet you in the Park, but he infallibly will go out this Afternoon, she says; but I must step again to know the Hour.

_Marpl._ What did _Whisper_ say now? I shall go stark Mad, if I'm not let into this Secret. (_Aside._

_Cha._ Curst Misfortune, come along with me, my Heart feels Pleasure at her Name. Sir _George_, yours; we'll meet at the old place the usual Hour.

Sir _Geo._ Agreed; I think I see Sir _Francis_ yonder.
(_Exit._

_Cha._ _Marplot_, you must excuse me, I am engag'd.
(_Exit._

_Marpl._ Engag'd, Egad I'll engage my Life, I'll know what your Engagement is. (_Exit._

_Miran._ (_Coming out of a Chair._) Let the Chair wait: My Servant, That dog'd Sir _George_ said he was in the Park.

_Enter _Patch_._

Ha! Mis _Patch_ alone, did not you tell me you had contriv'd a way to bring _Isabinda_ to the Park?

_Patch._ Oh, Madam, your Ladiship can't imagine what a wretched Disappointment we have met with: Just as I had fetch'd a Suit of my Cloaths for a Disguise: comes my old Master into his Closet, which is right against her Chamber Door; this struck us into a terrible Fright--At length I put on a Grave Face, and ask'd him if he was at leisure for his Chocolate, in hopes to draw him out of his Hole; but he snap'd my Nose off, No, I shall be busie here this two Hours; at which my poor Mistress seeing no way of Escape, order'd me to wait on your Ladiship with the sad Relation.

_Miran._ Unhappy _Isabinda!_ Was ever any thing so unaccountable as the Humour of Sir _Jealousie Traffick_.

_Patch._ Oh, Madam, it's his living so long in _Spain_, he vows he'll spend half his Estate, but he'll be a Parliament-Man, on purpose to bring in a Bill for Women to wear Veils, and the other odious _Spanish_ Customs--He swears it is the height of Impudence to have a Woman seen Bare-fac'd even at Church, and scarce believes there's a true begotten Child in the City.

_Miran._ Ha, ha, ha, how the old Fool torments himself! Suppose he could introduce his rigid Rules--does he think we cou'd not match them in Contrivance? No, no; Let the Tyrant Man make what Laws he will, if there's a Woman under the Government, I warrant she finds a way to break 'em: Is his Mind set upon the _Spaniard_ for his Son-in-law still?

_Patch._ Ay, and he expects him by the next Fleet, which drives his Daughter to Melancholy and Despair: But, Madam, I find you retain the same gay, cheerful Spirit you had, when I waited on your Ladiship.--My Lady is mighty good-humour'd too, and I have found a way to make Sir _Jealousie_ believe I am wholly in his Interest, when my real Design is to serve her; he makes me her Jaylor, and I set her at Liberty.

_Miran._ I know thy Prolifick Brain wou'd be of singular Service to her, or I had not parted with thee to her Father.

_Patch._ But, Madam, the Report is that you are going to marry your Guardian.

_Miran._ It is necessary such a Report shou'd be, _Patch_.

_Patch._ But is it true, Madam?

_Miran._ That's not absolutely necessary.

_Patch._ I thought it was only the old Strain, coaxing him still for your own, and railing at all the young Fellows about Town; in my Mind now, you are as ill plagu'd with your Guardian, Madam, as my Lady is with her Father.

_Miran._ No, I have Liberty, Wench, that she wants; what would she give now to be in this _dissabilee_ in the--open Air, nay more, in pursuit of the young Fellow she likes; for that's my Case, I assure thee.

_Patch._ As for that, Madam, she's even with you; for tho' she can't come abroad, we have a way to bring him home in spight of old _Argus_.

_Miran._ Now _Patch_, your Opinion of my Choice, for here he comes--Ha! my Guardian with him; what can be the meaning of this? I'm sure Sir _Francis_ can't know me in this Dress--Let's observe 'em. (_They withdraw._

_Enter Sir _Francis Gripe_ and Sir _George Airy_._

Sir _Fran._ Verily, Sir _George_, thou wilt repent throwing away thy Money so, for I tell thee sincerely, _Miranda_, my Charge do's not love a young Fellow, they are all vicious, and seldom make good Husbands; in sober Sadness she cannot abide 'em.

_Miran._ (_Peeping._) In sober Sadness you are mistaken--what can this mean?

Sir _Geo._ Look ye, Sir _Francis_, whether she can or cannot abide young Fellows is not the Business; will you take the fifty Guineas?

Sir _Fran._ In good truth--I will not, for I knew thy Father, he was a hearty wary Man, and I cannot consent that his Son should squander away what he sav'd, to no purpose.

_Mirand._ (_Peeping._) Now, in the Name of Wonder, what Bargain can he be driving about me for fifty Guineas?

_Patch._ I wish it ben't for the first Night's Lodging, Madam.

Sir _Geo._ Well, Sir _Francis_, since you are so conscientious for my Father's sake, then permit me the Favour, _Gratis_.

_Miran._ (_Peeping._) The Favour! Oh my Life! I believe 'tis as you said, _Patch_.

Sir _Fran._ No verily, if thou dost not buy thy Experience, thou wou'd never be wise; therefore give me a Hundred and try Fortune.

Sir _Geo._ The Scruples arose, I find, from the scanty Sum--Let me see--a Hundred Guineas-- (_Takes 'em out of a Purse and chinks 'em._) Ha! they have a very pretty Sound, and a very pleasing Look--But then, _Miranda_--But if she should be cruel--

_Miran._ (_Peeping._) As Ten to One I shall--

Sir _Fran._ Ay, do consider on't, He, he, he, he.

Sir _Geo._ No, I'll do't.

_Patch._ Do't, what, whether you will or no, Madam?

Sir _Geo._ Come to the Point, here's the Gold, sum up the Conditions--

Sir _Fran._ (_Pulling out a Paper_.)

_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Ay for Heaven's sake do, for my Expectation is on the Rack.

Sir _Fran._ Well at your own Peril be it.

Sir _Geo._ Aye, aye, go on.

Sir _Fran._ _Imprimis_, you are to be admitted into my House in order to move your Suit to _Miranda_, for the space of Ten Minutes, without Lett or Molestation, provided I remain in the same Room.

Sir _Geo._ But out of Ear shot--

Sir _Fran._ Well, well, I don't desire to hear what you say, Ha, ha, ha, in consideration I am to have that Purse and a hundred Guineas.

Sir _Geo._ Take it--
(_Gives him the Purse_.

_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) So, 'tis well it's no worse, I'll fit you both--

Sir _Geo._ And this Agreement is to be perform'd to Day.

Sir _Fran._ Aye, aye, the sooner the better, poor Fool, how _Miranda_ and I shall laugh at him--Well, Sir _George_, Ha, ha, ha, take the last sound of your Guineas, Ha, ha, ha. (_Chinks 'em_.) (Exit.

_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Sure he does not know I am _Miranda_.

Sir _Geo._ A very extraordinary Bargain I have made truly, if she should be really in Love with this old Cuff now--Psha, that's morally impossible--but then what hopes have I to succeed, I never spoke to her--

_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Say you so? Then I am safe.

Sir _Geo._ What tho' my Tongue never spoke, my Eyes said a thousand Things, and my Hopes flatter'd me hers answer'd 'em. If I'm lucky--if not, 'tis but a hundred Guineas thrown away. (__Miranda_ and _Patch_ come forwards._

_Miran._ Upon what Sir _George?_

Sir _Geo._ Ha! my _Incognito_--upon a Woman, Madam.

_Miran._ They are the worst Things you can deal in, and damage the soonest; your very Breath destroys 'em, and I fear you'll never see your Return, Sir _George_, Ha, ha!

Sir _Geo._ Were they more brittle than _China_, and drop'd to pieces with a Touch, every Atom of her I have ventur'd at, if she is but Mistress of thy Wit, ballances Ten times the Sum--Prithee let me see thy Face.

_Miran._ By no means, that may spoil your Opinion of my Sense--

Sir _Geo._ Rather confirm it, Madam.

_Patch._ So rob the Lady of your Gallantry, Sir.

Sir _Geo._ No Child, a Dish of Chocolate in the Morning never spoils my Dinner; the other Lady, I design a set Meal; so there's no danger--

_Miran._ Matrimony! Ha, ha, ha; what Crimes have you committed against the God of Love, that he should revenge 'em so severely to stamp Husband upon your Forehead--

Sir _Geo._ For my Folly in having so often met you here, without pursuing the Laws of Nature, and exercising her command--But I resolve e'er we part now, to know who you are, where you live, and what kind of Flesh and Blood your Face is; therefore unmask and don't put me to the trouble of doing it for you.

_Miran._ My Face is the same Flesh and Blood with my Hand, Sir _George_, which if you'll be so rude to provoke.

Sir _Geo._ You'll apply it to my Cheek--The Ladies Favours are always Welcome; but I must have that Cloud withdrawn. (_Taking hold of her_.) Remember you are in the _Park_, Child, and what a terrible thing would it be to lose this pretty white Hand.

_Miran._ And how will it sound in a _Chocolate-House_, that Sir _George Airy_ rudely pull'd off a Ladies Mask, when he had given her his Honour, that he never would, directly or indirectly endeavour to know her till she gave him Leave.

_Patch._ I wish we were safe out.
(_Aside._

Sir _Geo._ But if that Lady thinks fit to pursue and meet me at every turn like some troubl'd Spirit, shall I be blam'd if I inquire into the Reality? I would have nothing dissatisfy'd in a Female Shape.

_Miran._ What shall I do?
(_Pause._

Sir _Geo._ Ay, prithee consider, for thou shalt find me very much at thy Service.

_Patch._ Suppose, Sir, the Lady shou'd be in Love with you.

Sir _Geo._ Oh! I'll return the Obligation in a Moment.

_Patch._ And marry her?

Sir _Geo._ Ha, ha, ha, that's not the way to Love her Child.

_Miran._ If he discovers me, I shall die--Which way shall I escape?--Let me see. (_Pauses._

Sir _Geo._ Well, Madam--

_Miran._ I have it--Sir _George_, 'tis fit you should allow something; if you'll excuse my Face, and turn your Back (if you look upon me I shall sink, even mask'd as I am) I will confess why I have engag'd you so often, who I am, and where I live?

Sir _Geo._ Well, to show you I'm a Man of Honour I accept the Conditions. Let me but once know those, and the Face won't be long a Secret to me. (_Aside._

_Patch._ What mean you, Madam?

_Miran._ To get off.

Sir _Geo._ 'Tis something indecent to turn ones Back upon a Lady; but you command and I obey. (_Turns his Back._) Come, Madam, begin--

_Miran._ First then it was my unhappy Lot to see you at _Paris_ (_Draws back a little while and speaks_) at a Ball upon a Birth-Day; your Shape and Air charm'd my Eyes; your Wit and Complaisance my Soul, and from that fatal Night I lov'd you. (_Drawing back._) And when you left the Place, Grief seiz'd me so--No Rest my Heart, no Sleep my Eyes cou'd know.--

_Last I resolv'd a hazardous Point to try,_
_And quit the Place in search of Liberty._
(Exit.

Sir _Geo._ Excellent--I hope she's Handsome--Well, Now, Madam, to the other two Things: Your Name, and where you live?--I am a Gentleman, and this Confession will not be lost upon me.--Nay, prithee don't weep, but go on--for I find my Heart melts in thy Behalf--speak quickly or I shall turn about--Not yet.--Poor Lady, she expects I shou'd comfort her; and to do her Justice, she has said enough to encourage me. (_Turns about._) Ha? gone! The Devil, jilted? Why, what a Tale has she invented--of _Paris_, Balls, and Birth-Days.--Egad I'd give Ten Guineas to know who this Gipsie is.--A Curse of my Folly--I deserve to lose her; what Woman can forgive a Man that turns his Back.

_The Bold and Resolute, in Love and War,
To Conquer take the Right, and swiftest way;
The boldest Lover soonest gains the Fair,
As Courage makes the rudest Force obey,
Take no denial, and the Dames adore ye,
Closely pursue them and they fall before ye._

The End of the First ACT.

ACT the Second.

_Enter Sir _Francis Gripe_, _Miranda_._

Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

_Miran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha; Oh, I shall die with Laughing.--The most Romantick Adventure: Ha, ha! what does the odious young Fop mean? A Hundred Pieces to talk an Hour with me; Ho, ha.

Sir _Fran._ And I'm to be by too; there's the Jest; Adod, if it had been in Private, I shou'd not have car'd to trust the young Dog.

_Mirand._ Indeed and Indeed, but you might _Gardy_.--Now methinks there's no Body Handsomer than you; So Neat, so Clean, so Good-Humour'd, and so Loving.--

Sir _Fran._ Pritty Rogue, Pritty Rogue, and so thou shalt find me, if thou do'st prefer thy _Gardy_ before these Caperers of the Age, thou shalt out-shine the Queen's Box on an _Opera_ Night; thou shalt be the Envy of the Ring (for I will Carry thee to _Hide-Park_) and thy Equipage shall Surpass, the what--d'ye call 'em Ambassadors.

_Miran._ Nay, I'm sure the Discreet Part of my Sex will Envy me more for the Inside Furniture, when you are in it, than my Outside Equipage.

Sir _Fran._ A Cunning Bagage, a faith thou art, and a wise one too; and to show thee thou hast not chose amiss, I'll this moment Disinherit my Son, and Settle my whole Estate upon thee.

_Miran._ There's an old Rogue now: (_Aside._) No, _Gardy_, I would not have your Name be so Black in the World--You know my Father's Will runs, that I am not to possess my Estate, without your Consent, till I'm Five and Twenty; you shall only abate the odd Seven Years, and make me Mistress of my Estate to Day, and I'll make you Master of my Person to Morrow.

Sir _Fran._ Humph? that may not be safe--No _Chargy_, I'll Settle it upon thee for _Pin-mony_; and that will be every bit as well, thou know'st.

_Miran._ Unconscionable old Wretch, Bribe me with my own Money--Which way shall I get out of his Hands? (_Aside._

Sir _Fran._ Well, what art thou thinking on, my Girl, ha? How to Banter Sir _George?_

_Miran._ I must not pretend to Banter: He knows my Tongue too well: (_Aside._) No, _Gardy_, I have thought of a way will Confound him more than all I cou'd say, if I shou'd talk to him Seven Years.

Sir _Fran._ How's that? Oh! I'm Transported, I'm Ravish'd, I'm Mad--

_Miran._ It wou'd make you Mad, if you knew All, (_Aside._) I'll not Answer him one Word, but be Dumb to all he says--

Sir _Fran._ Dumb, good; Ha, ha, ha. Excellent, ha, ha, I think I have you now, Sir _George_: Dumb! he'll go Distracted--Well, she's the wittiest Rogue--Ha, ha, Dumb! I can but Laugh, ha, ha, to think how damn'd Mad he'll be when he finds he has given his Money away for a a Dumb Show. Ha, ha, ha.

_Miran._ Nay, _Gardy_, if he did but know my Thoughts of him, it wou'd make him ten times Madder: Ha, ha, ha.

Sir _Fran._ Ay, so it wou'd _Chargy_, to hold him in such Derision, to scorn to Answer him, to be Dumb: Ha, ha, ha, ha.

_Enter _Charles_._

Sir _Fran._ How now, Sirrah, Who let you in?

_Char._ My Necessity, Sir.

Sir _Fran._ Sir, your Necessities are very Impertinent, and ought to have sent before they Entred.

_Char._ Sir, I knew 'twas a Word wou'd gain Admittance no where.

Sir _Fran._ Then, Sirrah, how durst you Rudely thrust that upon your Father, which no Body else wou'd admit?

_Char._ Sure the Name of a Son is a sufficient Plea. I ask this Lady's Pardon if I have intruded.

Sir _Fran._ Ay, Ay, ask her Pardon and her Blessing too, if you expect any thing from me.

_Miran._ I believe yours, Sir _Francis_, in a Purse of Guinea's wou'd be more material. Your Son may have Business with you, I'll retire.

Sir _Fran._ I guess his Business, but I'll dispatch him, I expect the Knight every Minute: You'll be in Readiness.

_Miran._ Certainly! my Expectation is more upon the wing than yours, old Gentleman. [_Exit._

Sir _Fran._ Well, Sir!

_Char._ Nay, it is very Ill, Sir; my Circumstances are, I'm sure.

Sir _Fran,_ And what's that to me, Sir: Your Management shou'd have made them better.

_Char._ If you please to intrust me with the Management of my Estate, I shall endeavour it, Sir.

Sir _Fran._ What to set upon a Card, and buy a Lady's Favour at the Price of a Thousand Pieces, to Rig out an Equipage for a Wench, or by your Carelessness enrich your Steward to fine for Sheriff, or put up for Parliament-Man.

_Char._ I hope I shou'd not spend it this way: However, I ask only for what my Uncle left me; Your's you may dispose of as you please, Sir.

Sir _Fran._ That I shall, out of your Reach, I assure you, Sir. Adod these young Fellows think old Men get Estates for nothing but them to squander away, in Dicing, Wenching, Drinking, Dressing, and so forth.

_Char._ I think I was born a Gentleman, Sir; I'm sure my Uncle bred me like one.

Sir _Fran._ From which you wou'd infer, Sir, that Gaming, Whoring, and the Pox, are Requisits to a Gentleman.

_Char._ Monstrous! when I wou'd ask him only for a Support, he falls into these unmannerly Reproaches; I must, tho' against my Will, employ Invention, and by Stratagem relieve my self. (_Aside._

Sir _Fran._ Sirrah, what is it you mutter, Sirrah, ha? (_Holds up his Cane._) I say, you sha'n't have a Groat out of my Hands till I Please--and may be I'll never Please, and what's that to you?

_Char._ Nay, to be Robb'd, or have one's Throat Cut is not much--

Sir _Fran._ What's that, Sirrah? wou'd ye Rob me, or Cut my Throat, ye Rogue?

_Char._ Heaven forbid, Sir,--I said no such thing.

Sir _Fran._ Mercy on me! What a Plague it is to have a Son of One and Twenty, who wants to Elbow one out of one's Life, to Edge himself into the Estate.

_Enter _Marplot_._

_Marpl._ Egad he's here--I was afraid I had lost him: His Secret cou'd not be with his Father, his Wants are Publick there--Guardian,--your Servant _Charles_, I know by that sorrowful Countenance of thine. The old Man's Fist is as close as his strong Box--But I'll help thee--

Sir _Fran._ So: Here's another extravagant Coxcomb, that will spend his Fortune before he comes to't; but he shall pay swinging Interest, and so let the Fool go on--Well, what do's Necessity bring you too, Sir?

_Marpl._ You have hit it, Guardian--I want a Hundred Pound.

Sir _Fran._ For what?

_Marpl._ Po'gh, for a Hundred Things, I can't for my Life tell you for what.

_Char._ Sir, I suppose I have received all the Answer I am like to have.

_Marpl._ Oh, the Devil, if he gets out before me, I shall lose him agen.

Sir _Fran._ Ay, Sir, and you may be marching as soon as you please--I must see a Change in your Temper e'er you find one in mine.

_Marpl._ Pray, Sir, dispatch me; the Money, Sir, I'm in mighty haste.

Sir _Fran._ Fool, take this and go to the Cashier; I sha'n't be long plagu'd with thee. (_Gives him a Note._

_Marpl._ Devil take the Cashier, I shall certainly have _Charles_ gone before I come back agen. (_Runs out._

_Char._ Well, Sir, I take my Leave--But remember, you Expose an only Son to all the Miseries of wretched Poverty, which too often lays the Plan for Scenes of Mischief.

Sir _Fran._ Stay, _Charles_, I have a sudden Thought come into my Head, may prove to thy Advantage.

_Char._ Ha, does he Relent?

Sir _Fran._ My Lady _Wrinkle_, worth Forty Thousand Pound, sets up for a Handsome young Husband; she prais'd thee t'other Day; tho' the Match-makers can get Twenty Guinea's for a sight of her, I can introduce thee for nothing.

_Char._ My Lady _Wrinkle_, Sir, why she has but one Eye.

Sir _Fran._ Then she'll see but half your Extravagance, Sir.

_Char._ Condemn me to such a piece of Deformity! Toothless, Dirty, Wry-neck'd, Hunch-back'd Hag.

Sir _Fran._ Hunch-back'd! so much the better, then she has a Rest for her Misfortunes; for thou wilt Load her swingingly. Now I warrant you think, this is no Offer of a Father; Forty Thousand Pound is nothing with you.

_Char._ Yes, Sir, I think it is too much; a young Beautiful Woman with half the Money wou'd be more agreeable. I thank you, Sir; but you Chose better for your self, I find.

Sir _Fran._ Out of my Doors, you Dog; you pretend to meddle with my Marriage, Sirrah.

_Char._ Sir, I obey: But--

Sir _Fran._ But me no Buts--Be gone, Sir: Dare to ask me for Money agen--Refuse Forty Thousand Pound! Out of my Doors, I say, without Reply.

(_Exit _Char_._

_Enter Servant._

_Serv._ One Sir _George Airy_ enquires for you, Sir.

_Enter _Marplot_ Running._

_Marpl._. Ha? gone! Is _Charles_ gone, Guardian?

Sir _Fran._ Yes; and I desire your wise Worship to walk after him.

_Marpl._ Nay, Egad, I shall Run, I tell you but that. Ah, Pox of the Cashier for detaining me so long, where the Devil shall I find him now. I shall certainly lose this Secret. (_Exit, hastily._

Sir _Fran._ What is the Fellow distracted?--Desire Sir _George_ to walk up--Now for a Tryal of Skill that will make me Happy, and him a Fool: Ha, ha, ha, in my Mind he looks like an Ass already.

_Enter Sir _George_._

Sir _Fran._ Well, Sir _George_, Dee ye hold in the same Mind? or wou'd you Capitulate? Ha, ha, ha: Look, here are the Guinea's, (_Chinks them._) Ha, ha, ha.

Sir _Geo._ Not if they were twice the Sum, Sir _Francis_: Therefore be brief, call in the Lady, and take your Post--if she's a Woman, and, not seduc'd by Witchcraft to this old Rogue, I'll make his Heart ake; for if she has but one Grain of Inclination about her, I'll vary a Thousand Shapes, but find it. (_Aside._

_Enter _Mirand_._

Sir _Fran._ Agreed--_Miranda._ There Sir _George_, try your Fortune, (_Takes out his Watch._)

Sir _Geo._
So from the Eastern Chambers breaks the Sun,
Dispels the Clouds, and gilds the Vales below.
(_Salutes her._

Sir _Fran._ Hold, Sir, Kissing was not in our Agreement.

Sir _Geo._ Oh! That's by way of Prologue:--Prithee, Old Mammon, to thy Post.

Sir _Fran._ Well, young _Timon_, 'tis now 4 exactly; one Hour, remember is your utmost Limit, not a Minute more. (_Retires to the bottom of the Stage._

Sir _Geo._ Madam, whether you will Excuse or Blame my Love, the Author of this rash Proceeding depends upon your Pleasure, as also the Life of your Admirer; your sparkling Eyes speak a Heart susceptible of Love; your Vivacity a Soul too delicate to admit the Embraces of decay'd Mortality.

_Miran._ (_Aside._) Oh, that I durst speak--

Sir _Geo._ Shake off this Tyrant _Guardian_'s Yoke, assume your self, and dash his bold aspiring Hopes; the Deity of his Desires, is Avarice; a Heretick in Love, and ought to be banish'd by the Queen of Beauty. See, Madam, a faithful Servant kneels and begs to be admitted in the Number of your Slaves. (Miranda _gives him her Hand to Raise him._

Sir _Fran._ I wish I cou'd hear what he says now. (_Running up._) Hold, hold, hold, no Palming, that's contrary to Articles--

Sir _Geo._ Death, Sir, Keep your Distance, or I'll write another Article in your Guts. (_Lays his Hand to his Sword._

Sir _Fran._ (_Going back._) A Bloody-minded Fellow!--

Sir _Geo._ Not Answer me! Perhaps she thinks my Address too Grave: I'll be more free--Can you be so Unconscionable, Madam, to let me say all these fine things to you without one single Compliment in Return? View me well, am I not a proper Handsome Fellow, ha? Can you prefer that old, dry, wither'd, sapless Log of Sixty-five, to the vigorous, gay, sprightly Love of Twenty-four? With Snoring only he'll awake thee, but I with Ravishing Delight wou'd make thy Senses Dance in Consort with the Joyful Minutes--ha? not yet, sure she is Dumb--Thus wou'd I steal and touch thy Beauteous Hand, (_Takes bold of her Hand_) till by degrees I reach'd thy snowy Breasts, then Ravish Kisses thus, (_Embraces her in Extasie._

_Miran._ (_Strugles and flings from him._) Oh Heavens! I shall not be able to contain my self. (_Aside._

Sir _Fran._ (_Running up with his Watch in his Hand._) Sure she did not speak to him--There's Three Quarters of the Hour gone, Sir _George_--Adod, I don't like those close Conferences--

Sir _Geo._ More Interruptions--You will have it, Sir.
(_Lays his Hand to his Sword._

Sir _Fran._ (_Going back._) No, no, you shan't have her neither.
(_Aside._

Sir _Geo._ Dumb still--sure this old Dog has enjoyn'd her Silence; I'll try another way--I must conclude, Madam, that in Compliance to your Guardian's Humour, you refuse to answer me--Consider the Injustice of his Injunction. This single Hour cost me a Hundred Pound--and wou'd you answer me, I cou'd purchase the 24 so: However, Madam, you must give me leave to make the best Interpretation I can for my Money, and take the Indication of your Silence for the secret Liking of my Person: Therefore, Madam, I will instruct you how to keep your Word inviolate to Sir _Francis_, and yet Answer me to every Question: As for Example, When I ask any thing, to which you wou'd Reply in the Affirmative, gently Nod your Head--thus; and when in the Negative thus; (_(Shakes his Head_.) and in the doubtful a tender Sigh, thus (_Sighs._

_Miran._ How every Action charms me--but I'll fit him for Signs I warrant him. (_Aside._

Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, poor Sir _George_, Ha, ha, ha, ha.
(_Aside._

Sir _Geo._ Was it by his desire that you are Dumb, Madam, to all that I can say?

_Miran._ (_Nods._)

Sir _Geo._ Very well! she's tractable I find--And is it possible that you can love him? Miraculous! (__Miran._ Nods._) Pardon the bluntness of my Questions, for my Time is short; may I not hope to supplant him in your Esteem? (__Miran._ Sighs._) Good! she answers me as I could wish--You'll not consent to marry him then? (__Miran._ Sighs._) How, doubtful in that--Undone again--Humph! but that may proceed from his Power to keep her out of her Estate till Twenty Five; I'll try that--Come, Madam, I cannot think you hesitate in this Affair out of any Motive, but your Fortune--Let him keep it till those few Years are expir'd; make me Happy with your Person, let him enjoy your Wealth--(__Miran._ holds up her Hands._) Why, what Sign is that now? Nay, nay, Madam, except you observe my Lesson, I can't understand your meaning--

Sir _Fran._ What a Vengeance, are they talking by Signs, 'ad I may be fool'd here; what do you mean, Sir _George?_

Sir _Geo._ To Cut your Throat if you dare Mutter another Syllable.

Sir _Fran._ Od! I wish he were fairly out of my House.

Sir _Geo._ Pray, Madam, will you answer me to the Purpose? (__Miran._ shakes her Head, and points to Sir _Francis_._) What! does she mean she won't answer me to the purpose, or is she afraid yon' old Cuff should understand her Signs?--Aye, it must be that, I perceive, Madam, you are too apprehensive of the Promise you have made to follow my Rules; therefore I'll suppose your Mind and answer for you--First, for my self, Madam, that I am in Love with you is an infallible Truth. Now for you: (_Turns on her side._) Indeed, Sir, and may I believe it--As certainly, Madam, as that 'tis Day light, or that I Die if you persist in Silence--Bless me with the Musick of your Voice, and raise my Spirits to their proper Heaven: Thus low let me intreat; e'er I'm oblig'd to quit this Place, grant me some Token of a favourable Reception to keep my Hopes alive. (_Arises hastily turns of her side._) Rise, Sir, and since my Guardian's Presence will not allow me Privilege of Tongue, Read that and rest assured you are not indifferent to me. (_Offers her a Letter._) Ha! right Woman! But no (_She strikes it down._) matter I'll go on.

Sir _Fran._ Ha! what's that a Letter--Ha, ha, ha, thou art baulk'd.

_Miran._ The best Assurance I ever saw--
(_Aside._

Sir _Geo._ Ha? a Letter, Oh! let me Kiss it with the same Raptures that I would do the dear Hand that touch'd it. (_Opens it._) Now for a quick Fancy and a long _Extempore_--What's here? (_Reads._) "Dear, Sir _George_, this Virgin Muse I consecrate to you, which when it has receiv'd the Addition of your Voice, 'twill Charm me into Desire of Liberty to Love, which you, and only you can fix." My Angel! Oh you transport me! (_Kisses the Letter._) And see the Power of your Command; the God of Love has set the Verse already; the flowing Numbers Dance into a Tune, and I'm inspir'd with a Voice to sing it.

_Miran._ I'm sure thou art inspir'd with Impudence enough.

Sir _Geo._ (_Sings._)
_Great Love inspire him;
Say I admire him.
Give me the Lover
That can discover
Secret Devotion
from silent Motion;
Then don't betray me,
But hence convey me._

Sir _Geo._ (_Taking hold of _Miranda_._) With all my Heart, this Moment let's Retire.

(_Sir _Francis_ coming up hastily._)

Sir _Fran._ The Hour is expir'd, Sir, and you must take your leave. There, my Girl, there's the Hundred Pound which thou hast won, go, I'll be with you presently, Ha, ha, ha, ha.

(_Exit _Miranda_._

Sir _Geo._ Ads Heart, Madam, you won't leave me just in the Nick, will you?

Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, she has nick'd you, Sir _George_, I think, Ha, ha, ha: Have you any more Hundred Pounds to throw away upon Courtship, Ha, ha, ha.

Sir _Geo._ He, he, he, he, a Curse of your fleering Jests--Yet, however ill I succeeded, I'll venture the same Wager, she does not value thee a spoonful of Snuff--Nay more, though you enjoyn'd her Silence to me, you'll never make her speak to the Purpose with your self.

Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, did not I tell thee thou would'st repent thy Money? Did not I say she hated young Fellow's, Ha, ha, ha.

Sir _Geo._ And I'm positive she's not in Love with Age.

Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, no matter for that, Ha, ha, she's not taken with your Youth, nor your Rhetorick to boot, ha, ha.

Sir _Geo._ Whate'er her Reasons are for disliking a me, I am certain she can be taken with nothing about thee.

Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha; how he swells with Envy!--Poor Man, poor Man--Ha, ha; I must beg your Pardon, Sir _George_, _Miranda_ will be Impatient to have her share of Mirth: Verily we shall Laugh at thee most Egregiously; Ha, ha, ha.

Sir _Geo._ With all my Heart, faith--I shall Laugh in my Turn too--For if you dare marry her old _Belzebub_, you would be Cuckolded most Egregiously; Remember that, and Tremble--

_She that to Age her Beauteous Self resigns,
Shows witty Management for close Designs.
Then if thou'rt grac'd with fair _Miranda_'s Bed,
_Actæon_'s Horns she Means, shall Crown thy Head._
(_Exit._

Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha; he is mad.

_These fluttering Fops imagine they can Wind,
Turn, and Decoy to Love, all Women-kind:
But here's a Proof of Wisdom in my Charge,
Old Men are Constant, Young Men live at Large.
The Frugal Hand can Bills at Sight defray,
When he that Lavish is, has Nought to pay._
(_Exit._

SCENE _Changes to Sir _Jealous Traffick_'s House._

_Enter Sir _Jealous_, _Isabinda_, _Patch_ following._

Sir _Jeal._ What in the Balcone agen, notwithstanding my positive Commands to the contrary!--Why don't you write a Bill upon your Forehead, to show Passengers there's something to be Let--

_Isab._ What harm can there be in a little fresh Air, Sir?

Sir _Jeal._ Is your Constitution so hot, Mistriss, that it wants cooling, ha? Apply the Virtuous _Spanish_ Rules, banish your Tast, and Thoughts of Flesh, feed upon Roots, and quench your Thirst with Water.

_Isab._ That, and a close Room, wou'd certainly make me die of the Vapours.

Sir _Jeal._ No, Mistriss, 'tis your High-fed, Lusty, Rambling, Rampant Ladies--that are troubl'd with the Vapours; 'tis your Ratifia, Persico, Cynamon, Citron, and Spirit of Clary, cause such Swi--m--ing in the Brain, that carries many a Guinea full-tide to the Doctor. But you are not to be Bred this way; No Galloping abroad, no receiving Visits at home; for in our loose Country, the Women are as dangerous as the Men.

_Patch._ So I told her, Sir; and that it was not Decent to be seen in a Balcone--But she threaten'd to slap my Chaps, and told me, I was her Servant, not her Governess.

Sir _Jeal._ Did she so? But I'll make her to know, that you are her _Duenna_: Oh that incomparable Custom of _Spain!_ why here's no depending upon old Women in my Country--for they are as Wanton at Eighty, as a Girl of Eighteen; and a Man may as safely trust to _Asgill_'s Translation, as to his great Grand-Mother's not marrying agen.

_Isab._ Or to the _Spanish_ Ladies Veils, and _Duenna's_, for the Safeguard of their Honour.

Sir _Jeal._ Dare to Ridicule the Cautious Conduct of that wise Nation, and I'll have you Lock'd up this Fortnight, without a Peephole.

_Isab._ If we had but the Ghostly Helps in _England_, which they have in _Spain_, I might deceive you if you did,--Sir, 'tis not the Restraint, but the Innate Principles, secures the Reputation and Honour of our Sex--Let me tell you, Sir, Confinement sharpens the Invention, as want of Sight strengthens the other Senses, and is often more Pernicious than the Recreation innocent Liberty allows.

Sir _Jeal._ Say you so, Mistress, who the Devil taught you the Art of Reasoning? I assure you, they must have a greater Faith than I pretend to, that can think any Woman innocent who requires Liberty. Therefore, _Patch_, to your Charge I give her; Lock her up till I come back from Change: I shall have some sauntring Coxcomb, with nothing but a Red Coat and a Feather, think, by Leaping into her Arms, to Leap into my Estate--But I'll prevent them, she shall be only Signeur _Babinetto_'s.

_Patch._ Really, Sir, I wish you wou'd employ any Body else in this Affair; I lead a Life like a Dog with obeying your Commands. Come, Madam, will you please to be Lock'd up.

_Isab._ Ay, to enjoy more Freedom than he is aware of.
(_Aside._
(_Exit with _Patch_._

Sir _Jeal._ I believe this Wench is very true to my Interest: I am happy I met with her, if I can but keep my Daughter from being blown upon till Signeur _Babinetto_ arrives; who shall marry her as soon as he comes, and carry her to _Spain_ as soon as he has marry'd her; she has a pregnant Wit, and I'd no more have her an _English_ Wife, than the Grand Signior's Mistress. (_Exit._

_Enter _Whisper_._

_Whisp._ So, I see Sir _Jealous_ go out; where shall I find Mrs. _Patch_ now.

_Enter _Patch_._

_Patch._ Oh Mr. _Whisper_, my Lady saw you out at the Window, and order'd me to bid you fly, and let your Master know she's now alone.

_Whisp._ Hush, Speak softly; I go, go: But hark'e Mrs. _Patch_, shall not you and I have a little Confabulation, when my Master and your Lady is engag'd?

_Patch._ Ay, Ay, Farewell.
(_Goes in, and shuts the Door._

_Re-enter Sir _Jealous Traffick_ meeting _Whisper_._

Sir _Jeal._ Sure whil'st I was talking with Mr. _Tradewell_, I heard my Door clap. (_Seeing _Whisper_._) Ha! a Man lurking about my House; who do you want there, Sir?

_Whisp._ Want--want, a pox, Sir _Jealous!_ what must I say now?--
(_Aside._

Sir _Jeal._ Ay, want; have you a Letter or Message for any Body there?--O my Conscience, this is some He-Bawd--

_Whisp._ Letter or Message, Sir!

Sir _Jeal._ Ay, Letter or Message, Sir.

_Whisp._ No, not I, Sir.

Sir _Jeal._ Sirrah, Sirrah, I'll have you set in the Stocks, if you don't tell me your Business immediately.

_Whisp._ Nay, Sir, my Business--is no great matter of Business neither; and yet 'tis Business of Consequence too.

Sir _Jeal._ Sirrah, don't trifle with me.

_Whisp._ Trifle, Sir, have you found him, Sir?

Sir _Jeal._ Found what, you Rascal.

_Whisp._ Why _Trifle_ is the very Lap-Dog my Lady lost, Sir; I fancy'd I see him run into this House. I'm glad you have him--Sir, my Lady will be over-joy'd that 1 have found him.

Sir _Jeal._ Who is your Lady Friend?

_Whisp._ My Lady Love-puppy, Sir.

Sir _Jeal._ My Lady Love-puppy! then prithee carry thy self to her, for I know no other Whelp that belongs to her; and let me catch ye no more Puppy-hunting about my Doors, lest I have you prest into the Service, Sirrah.

_Whisp._ By no means, Sir--Your humble Servant; I must watch whether he goes, or no, before I can tell my Master. (_Exit._

Sir _Jeal._ This Fellow has the Officious Leer of a Pimp; and I half suspect a Design, but I'll be upon them before they think on me, I warrant 'em. (_Exit._

SCENE __Charles_'s Lodging._

_Enter _Charles_ and _Marplot_._

_Char._ Honest _Marplot_, I thank thee for this Supply; I expect my Lawyer with a Thousand Pound I have order'd him to take up, and then you shall be Repaid.

_Marpl._ Pho, pho, no more of that: Here comes Sir _George Airy_--

_Enter Sir _George_._

Cursedly out of Humour at his Disappointment; see how he looks! Ha, ha, ha.

Sir _Geo._ Ah, _Charles_, I am so humbled in my Pretensions to Plots upon Women, that I believe I shall never have Courage enough to attempt a Chamber-maid agen--I'll tell thee.

_Char._ Ha, ha; I'll spare you the Relation by telling you--Impatient to know your Business with my Father, when I saw you Enter, I slipt back into the next Room, where I overheard every Syllable.

Sir _Geo._ That I said--But I'll be hang'd if you heard her Answer--. But prithee tell me, _Charles_, is she a Fool?

_Char._ I ne'er suspected her for one; but _Marplot_ can inform you better, if you'll allow him a Judge.

_Marpl._ A Fool! I'll justifie she has more Wit than all the rest of her Sex put together; why she'll Rally me, till I han't one word to say for my self.

_Char._ A mighty Proof of her Wit truly--

_Marpl._ There must be some Trick in't, Sir _George_; Egad I'll find it out if it cost me the Sum you paid for't.

Sir _Geo._ Do and Command me--

_Marpl._ Enough, let me alone to Trace a Secret.--

_Enter _Whisper_, and speaks aside to his Master._

The Devil! _Whisper_ here agen, that Fellow never speaks out; is this the same, or a new Secret? Sir _George_, won't you ask _Charles_ what News _Whisper_ brings?

Sir _Geo._ Not I, Sir; I suppose it does not relate to me.

_Marpl._ Lord, Lord, how little Curiosity some People have! Now my chief Pleasure lies in knowing every Body's Business.

Sir _Geo._ I fancy, _Charles_, thou hast some Engagement upon thy Hands: I have a little Business too. _Marplot_, if it falls in your way to bring me any Intelligence from _Miranda_, you'll find me at the Thatch'd House at Six--

_Marpl._ You do me much Honour.

_Char._ You guess right, Sir _George_, wish me Success.

Sir _Geo._ Better than attended me. _Adieu_.
(_Exit._

_Char._ _Marplot_, you must Excuse me.--

_Marpl._ Nay, nay, what need of any Excuse amongst Friends! I'll go with you.

_Char._ Indeed you must not.

_Marpl._ No, then I suppose 'tis a Duel, and I will go to secure ye.

_Char._ Secure me, why you won't fight.

_Marpl._ What then! I can call People to part ye.

_Char._ Well, but it is no Duel, Consequently no Danger. Therefore prithee be Answer'd.

_Marpl._ What is't a Mistress then?--Mum--You know I can be silent upon occasion.

_Char._ I wish you cou'd be Civil too: I tell you, You neither Must nor Shall go with me. Farewel. (_Exit._

_Marpl._ Why then--I Must and Will follow you.
_Exit._

_The End of the Second Act._

ACT the Third

_Enter _Charles_._

_Char._ Well, here's the House, which holds the Lovely Prize quiet and serene; here no noisie Footmen throng to tell the World, that Beauty dwells within; no Ceremonious Visit makes the Lover wait; no Rival to give my Heart a Pang; who wou'd not scale the Window at Midnight without fear of the Jealous Father's Pistol, rather than fill up the Train of a Coquet, where every Minute he is jostled out of Place. (_Knocks softly._) Mrs. _Patch_, Mrs. _Patch._

_Enter _Patch_._

_Patch._ Oh, are you come, Sir? All's safe.

_Char._ So in, in then.

_Enter _Marplot_._

_Marpl._ There he goes: Who the Devil lives here? Except I can find out that, I am as far from knowing his Business as ever; gad I'll watch, it may be a Bawdy-House, and he may have his Throat cut; if there shou'd be any Mischief, I can make Oath, he went in. Well, _Charles_, in spight of your Endeavour to keep me out of the Secret; I may save your Life, for ought I know: At that Corner I'll plant my self; there I shall see whoever goes in, or comes out. Gad, I love Discoveries. _(Exit._

SCENE _Draws. _Charles_, _Isabinda_, and _Patch_._

_Isab._ _Patch_, look out sharp; have a care of Dad.

_Patch._ I warrant you.
_(Exit._