Sir _Jeal._ What's that to you, Sir. (_Turns quick upon him._

_Marpl._ Yes, 'tis to me, Sir; for the Gentleman you threaten is a very honest Gentleman. Look to't, for if he comes not as safe out of your House, as he went in, I have half a Dozen _Mirmidons_ hard-by shall beat it about your Ears.

Sir _Jeal._ Went in; what is he in then? Ah! a Combination to undo me--I'll _Mirmidon_ you, ye Dog you--Thieves, Thieves.

(_Beat_'s Marplot_ all this while he cries _Thieves_._

_Marpl._ Murder, Murder; I was not in your House, Sir.

_Enter Servant._

_Serv._ What's the matter, Sir?

Sir _Jeal._ The Matter, Rascals? Have you let a Man into my House; but I'll flea him Alive, follow me, I'll not leave a Mousehole unsearch'd; if I find him, by St. _Jago_, I'll Equip him for the _Opera._ (_Exit._

_Marpl._ A Duce of his Cane, there's no trusting to Age--what shall I do to Relieve _Charles!_ Egad, I'll raise the Neighbourhood--Murder, Murder-- (__Charles_ drops down upon him from the Balcone._) _Charles_ faith I'm glad to see thee safe out, with all my Heart.

_Char._ A Pox of your Bawling: How the Devil came you here?

_Marpl._ Here, gad I have done you a piece of Service; I told the old Thunderbolt, that the Gentleman that was gone in was--

_Char._ Was it you that told him, Sir? (_Laying hold of him._) Z'death, I cou'd crush thee into Atoms.

(_Exit _Charles_._

_Marpl._ What will you choak me for my Kindness?--will my Enquiring Soul never leave Searching into other Peoples Affairs, till it gets squeez'd out of my Body? I dare not follow him now, for my Blood, he's in such a Pa.s.sion--I'll to _Miranda_; if I can discover ought that may oblige Sir _George_, it may be a means to Reconcile me agen to _Charles_.

(_Exit._

_Enter Sir _Jealous_ and _Servants_._

Sir _Jeal._ Are you sure you have search'd every where?

_Serv._ Yes, from the Top of the House to the Bottom.

Sir _Jeal._ Under the Beds, and over the Beds?

_Serv._ Yes, and in them too, but found no Body, Sir.

Sir _Jeal._ Why, what cou'd this Rogue mean?

_Enter _Isabinda_ and _Patch_._

_Patch._ Take Courage, Madam, I saw him safe out. (_Aside to _Isab_._

_Isab._ Bless me! what's the matter, Sir?

Sir _Jeal._ You know best--Pray where's the Man that was here just now?

_Isab._ What Man, Sir? I saw none!

_Patch._ Nor I, by the Trust you repose in me; do you think I wou'd let a Man come within these Doors, when you were absent?

Sir _Jeal._ Ah _Patch_, she may be too cunning for thy Honesty; the very Scout that he had set to give Warning discover'd it to me--and threaten'd me with half a Dozen _Mirmidons_--But I think I maul'd the Villain. These Afflictions you draw upon me, Mistress!

_Isab._ Pardon me, Sir, 'tis your own Ridiculous Humour draws you into these Vexations, and gives every Fool pretence to banter you.

Sir _Jeal._ No, 'tis your Idle Conduct, your Coquetish Flurting into the Balcone--Oh with what Joy shall I resign thee into the Arms of Don _Diego Babinetto!_

_Isab._ And with what Industry shall I avoid him!

(_Aside._

Sir _Jeal._ Certainly that Rogue had a Message from some body or other; but being baulk'd by my coming, popt that Sham upon me. Come along, ye Sots, let's see if we can find the Dog again. _Patch_, lock her up; D'ye hear?

(_Exit with Servants._

_Patch._ Yes, Sir--ay, walk till your Heels ake, you'll find no Body, I promise you.

_Isab._ Who cou'd that Scout be, which he talks of?

_Patch._ Nay, I can't imagine, without it was _Whisper_.

_Isab._ Well, dear _Patch_, let's employ all our Thoughts how to escape this horrid Don _Diego_, my very Heart sinks at his Terrible Name.

_Patch._ Fear not, Madam, Don _Carlo_ shall be the Man, or I'll lose the Reputation of Contriving, and then what's a Chambermaid good for?

_Isab._ Say'st thou so, my Girl: Then-- _Let Dad be Jealous, multiply his Cares, While Love instructs me to avoid the Snares; I'll, spight of all his _Spanish_ Caution, show How much for Love a _British_ Maid can do._ (Exit.

SCENE _Sir _Francis Gripe_'s House._

_Sir _Francis_ and _Miranda_ meeting._

_Miran._ Well, _Gardee_, how did I perform my Dumb Scene?

Sir _Fran._ To Admiration--Thou dear little Rogue, let me buss thee for it: Nay, adod, I will, _Chargee_, so muzle, and tuzle, and hug thee; I will, I faith, I will.

(_Hugging and Kissing her._

_Miran._ Nay, _Gardee_, don't be so lavish; who wou'd Ride Post, when the Journey lasts for Life?

Sir _Fran._ Ah wag, ah wag--I'll buss thee agen for that.

_Miran._ Faugh! how he stinks of Tobacco! what a delicate Bedfellow I shou'd have!

(_Aside._

Sir _Fran._ Oh I'm Transported! When, when, my Dear, wilt thou Convince the World of thy Happy Day? when shall we marry, ha?

_Miran._ There's nothing wanting but your Consent, Sir _Francis_.

Sir _Fran._ My Consent! what do's my Charmer mean?

_Miran._ Nay, 'tis only a Whim: But I'll have every thing according to form--Therefore when you sign an Authentick Paper, drawn up by an able Lawyer, that I have your Leave to marry, the next Day makes me yours, _Gardee_.