_Marpl._ You'd say it was no good Sign, if you knew all.

Sir _Geo._ Why, prithee?

_Marpl._ Hark'e, Sir _George_, Let me warn you, pursue your old Haunt no more, it may be dangerous.

(Charles _sits down to write._

Sir _Geo._ My old Haunt, what d'you mean?

_Marpl._ Why in short then, since you will have it, _Miranda_ vows if you dare approach the Garden-Gate at Eight a Clock, as you us'd, you shall be saluted with a Blunderbuss, Sir. These were her Words; nay, she bid me tell you so too.

Sir _George_, Ha! The Garden-Gate at Eight, as I us'd to do! There must be a Meaning in this. Is there such a Gate, _Charles?_

_Char._ Yes, yes; it opens into the Park, I suppose her Ladyship has made many a Scamper through it.

Sir _Geo_. It must be an a.s.signation then. Ha, my Heart springs with Joy, 'tis a propitious Omen. My dear _Marplot_, let me embrace thee, thou art my Friend, my better Angel--

_Marpl._ What do you mean, Sir _George?_

Sir _Geo._ No matter what I mean. Here take a b.u.mper to the Garden-Gate, ye dear Rogue, you.

_Marpl._ You have Reason to be transported, Sir _George_; I have sav'd your Life.

Sir _Geo_. My Life! thou hast sav'd my Soul, Man. _Charles_, if thou do'st not pledge this Health, may'st thou never taste the Joys of Love.

_Char._ _Whisper_, be sure you take care how you deliver this (_gives him the Letter_) bring me the Answer to my Lodgings.

_Whisp._ I warrant you, Sir.

(_Exit._

_Marpl._ Whither does that Letter go?--Now dare I not ask for my Blood.

_Char._ Now I'm for you.

Sir _Geo._ To the Garden-Gate at the Hour of Eight, _Charles_, along, Huzza!

_Char._ I begin to conceive you.

_Marpl._ That's more than I do, Egad--to the Garden-Gate, Huzza, (_Drinks._) But I hope you design to keep far enough off on't, Sir _George_.

Sir _Geo._ Ay, ay, never fear that; she shall see I despise her Frowns, let her use her Blunderbuss against the next Fool, she shan't reach me with the Smoak, I warrant her, Ha, ha, ha.

_Marpl._ Ah, _Charles_, if you cou'd receive a Disappointment thus _En Cavalier_, one shou'd have some comfort in being beat for you.

_Char._ The Fool comprehends nothing.

Sir _Geo._ Nor wou'd I have him; prithee take him along with thee.

_Char._ Enough: _Marplot_, you shall go home with me.

_Marpl._ I'm glad I'm well with him however. Sir _George_, yours. Egad, _Charles_, asking me to go home with him, gives me a shrewd suspicion there's more in the Garden-Gate, than I comprehend. Faith, I'll give him the drop, and away to _Guardians_, and find it out.

Sir _Geo._ I kiss both your Hands--And now for the Garden-Gate.

_It's Beauty gives the a.s.signation there,_ _And Love too powerful grows t' admit of Fear._ (_Exit._

_The End of the Third Act._

ACT the Fourth.

SCENE the Out-side of Sir _Jealous Traffick_'s House, _Patch_ peeping out of Door.

_Enter _Whisper_._

_Whisp._ Ha, Mrs. _Patch_, this is a lucky Minute, to find you so readily, my Master dies with Impatience.

_Patch._ My Lady imagin'd so, and by her Orders I have been scouting this hour in search of you, to inform you that Sir _Jealous_ has invited some Friends to Supper with him to Night, which gives an Opportunity to your Master to make use of his Ladder of Ropes: The Closet Window shall be open, and _Isabinda_ ready to receive him; bid him come immediately.

_Whisp._ Excellent, He'll not disappoint I warrant him: But hold, I have a Letter here, which I'm to carry an Answer of: I can't think what Language the Direction is.

_Patch._ Pho, 'tis no Language, but a Character which the Lovers invented to avert Discovery: Ha, I hear my old Master coming down Stairs, it is impossible you shou'd have an Answer; away, and bid him come himself for that--begone we are ruined if you're seen, for he has doubl'd his Care since the last Accident.

_Whisp._ I go, I go.

[_Exit._

_Patch._ There, go thou into my Pocket. [_Puts it besides, and it falls down._] Now I'll up the back Stairs, lest I meet him. Well, a dexterous Chamber-maid is the Ladies best Utensil, I say.

[_Exit._

_Enter Sir _Jealous_ with a Letter in his Hand._

Sir _Jeal._ So, this is some Comfort, this tells me that _Seignior Don Diego Babinetto_ is safely arriv'd, he shall marry my Daughter the Minute he comes, ha. What's here [_takes up the Letter _Patch_ drop'd_]

a Letter! I don't know what to make of the Superscription. I'll see what's within side, [_opens it_] humph; 'tis _Hebrew_ I think. What can this mean. There must be some trick in it; this was certainly design'd for my Daughter, but I don't know that she can speak any Language but her Mother-Tongue. No matter for that, this may be one of Love's Hieroglyphicks, and I fancy I saw _Patch_'s Tail sweep by. That Wench may be a s.l.u.t, and instead of guarding my Honour, betray it; I'll find it out I'm resolv'd; who's there? What Answer did you bring from the Gentlemen I sent you to invite?

_Serv._ That they'd all wait of you, Sir, as I told you before, but I suppose you forget, Sir.

Sir _Jeal._ Did I so, Sir, but I shan't forget to break your Head, if any of 'em come, Sir.

_Serv._ Come, Sir, why did not you send me to desire their Company, Sir?

Sir _Jeal._ But I send you now to desire their Absence; say I have something extraordinary fallen out, which calls me abroad, contrary to Expectation, and ask their Pardon, and d'ye hear, send the Butler to me.

_Serv._ Yes, Sir.

[_Exit._

_Enter _Butler_._