Sir _Jeal._ If thou wer't as naked as thou wer't born, thou should'st not stay to put on a Smock. Come along, I say, when your Mistress is marry'd you shall have your Rags, and every thing that belongs to you; but till then-- (_Exit, pulling her out._

_Patch._ Oh! barbarous Usage for nothing.

_Re-enter at the lower Door._

Sir _Jeal._ There, go, and, come no more within sight of my Habitation, these three Days, I charge you.

(_Slaps the Door after her._

_Patch._ Did ever any Body see such an old Monster!

_Enter _Charles_._

_Patch._ Oh! Mr. _Charles_ your Affairs and mine are in an ill Posture.

_Char._ I am immur'd to the Frowns of Fortune: But what has befal'n thee?

_Patch._ Sir _Jealous_, whose suspicious Nature's always on the Watch; nay, even whilst one Eye sleeps, the other keeps Sentinel: Upon sight of you, flew into such a violent Pa.s.sion, that I cou'd find no Stratagem to appease him, but in spight of all Arguments, lock'd his Daughter into his own Apartment, and turn'd me out of Doors.

_Char._ Ha! oh, _Isabinda_.

_Patch._ And swears she shall neither see Sun nor Moon, till she is _Don Diego Babinetto_'s Wife, who arrived last Night, and is expected with impatience.

_Char._ He dies, yes, by all the Wrongs of Love he shall; here will I plant my self, and thro' my Breast he shall make his Pa.s.sage, if he enters.

_Patch._ A most heroick Resolution. There might be ways found out more to your Advantage. Policy is often preferr'd to open force.

_Char._ I apprehend you not.

_Patch._ What think you of personating this _Spaniard_, imposing upon the Father, and marrying your Mistress by his own Consent.

_Char._ Say'st thou so my Angel! Oh cou'd that be done, my Life to come wou'd be too short to recompence thee: But how can I do that, when I neither know what Ship he came in, nor from what part of _Spain_; who recommends him, nor how attended.

_Patch._ I can solve all this. He is from _Madrid_, his Father's Name _Don Pedro Questo Portento Babinetto_. Here's a Letter of his to Sir _Jealous_, which he drop'd one Day; you understand _Spanish_, and the Hand may be counterfeited: You conceive me, Sir.

_Char._ My better Genius, thou hast reviv'd my drooping Soul: I'll about it instantly. Come to my Lodgings, and we'll concert Matters.

(_Exeunt._

SCENE a Garden Gate open, _Scentwell_ waiting within.

_Enter Sir _George Airy_._

Sir _Geo._ So, this is the Gate, and most invitingly open: If there shou'd be a Blunderbuss here now, what a dreadful Ditty wou'd my Fall make for Fools; and what a Jest for the Wits; how my Name wou'd be roar'd about Streets. Well I'll venture all.

_Scentw._ Hist, hist, Sir _George Airy_-- (_Enters._

Sir _Geo._ A Female Voice, thus far I'm safe, my Dear.

_Scentw._ No, I'm not your Dear, but I'll conduct you to her, give me your Hand; you must go thro' many a dark Pa.s.sage and dirty Step before you arrive--

Sir _Geo._ I know I must before I arrive at Paradise; therefore be quick my charming Guide.

_Scentw._ For ought you know; come, come your Hand and away.

Sir _Geo._ Here, here Child, you can't be half so swift as my Desires.

(_Exeunt._

SCENE the House.

_Enter _Miranda_._

_Miran._ Well, let me reason a little with my mad self. Now don't I transgress all Rules to venture upon a Man, without the Advice of the Grave and Wise; but then a rigid knavish Guardian who wou'd have marry'd me. To whom? Even to his nauseous self, or no Body: Sir _George_ is what I have try'd in Conversation, inquir'd into his Character, am satisfied in both. Then his Love; who wou'd have given a hundred Pound only to have seen a Woman he had not infinitely loved? So I find my liking him has furnish'd me with Arguments enough of his side; and now the only Doubt remains whether he will come or no.

_Enter _Scentwell_._

_Scentw._ That's resolv'd, Madam, for here's the Knight.

_Exit_ Scentwell.

Sir _Geo._ And do I once more behold that lovely Object, whose Idea fills my Mind, and forms my pleasing Dreams!

_Miran._ What beginning again in Heroicks!--Sir _George_, don't you remember how little Fruit your last Prodigal Oration produced, not one bare single Word in answer.

Sir _Geo._ Ha! the Voice of my _Incognita_--Why did you take Ten Thousand ways to captivate a Heart your Eyes alone had vanquish'd?

_Miran._ Prithee, no more of these Flights; for our Time's but short, and we must fall into Business: Do you think we can agree on that same terrible Bugbear, _Matrimony_, without heartily Repenting on both sides.

Sir _Geo._ It has been my wish since first my longing Eyes beheld ye.

_Miran._ And your happy Ears drank in the pleasing News, I had Thirty Thousand Pound.

Sir _Geo._ Unkind! Did I not offer you in those purchas'd Minutes to run the Risque of your Fortune, so you wou'd but secure that lovely Person to my Arms.

_Miran._ Well, if you have such Love and Tenderness, (since our Woing has been short) pray reserve it for our future Days, to let the World see we are Lovers after Wedlock; 'twill be a Novelty--

Sir _Geo._ Haste then, and let us tye the Knot, and prove the envy'd Pair--

_Miran._ Hold! not so fast, I have provided better than to venture on dangerous Experiments headlong--My _Guardian_, trusting to my dissembled Love, has given up my Fortune to my own dispose; but with this _Proviso_, that he to Morrow morning weds me. He is now gone to _Doctors Commons_ for a License.

Sir _Geo._ Ha, a License!

_Miran._ But I have planted Emissaries that infallibly take him down to _Epsom_, under pretence that a Brother Usurer of his, is to make him his Executor; the thing on Earth he covets.

Sir _Geo._ 'Tis his known Character.

_Miran._ Now my Instruments confirm him, this Man is dying, and he sends me word he goes this Minute; it must be to Morrow e'er he can be undeceiv'd. That time is ours.