Sir Fran. Humph!  Prithee leave out Years, Chargee, I’m not so old, as thou shalt find:  Adod, I’m young; there’s a Caper for ye.
    (Jumps.

Miran. Oh never excuse it, why I like you the better for being old—­But I shall suspect you don’t love me, if you Refuse me this Formality.

Sir Fran. Not Love thee, Chargee! Adod I do love thee better than, than, than, better than—­what shall I say?  Egad, better than Money, I faith I do—­

Miran. That’s false I’m sure (Aside.) To prove it do this then.

Sir Fran. Well, I will do it, Chargee, provided I bring a License at the same time.

Miran. Ay, and a Parson too, if you please; Ha, ha, ha, I can’t help Laughing to think how all the young Coxcombs about Town will be mortify’d when they hear of our Marriage.

Sir Fran. So they will, so they will; Ha, ha, ha.

Miran. Well, I fancy I shall be so happy with my Gardee!

Sir Fran. If wearing Pearls and Jewels, or eating Gold, as the old Saying is, can make thee happy, thou shalt be so, my Sweetest, my Lovely, my Charming, my—­verily I know not what to call thee.

Miran. You must know, Gardee, that I am so eager to have this Business concluded, that I have employ’d my Womans Brother, who is a Lawyer in the Temple, to settle Matters just to your Liking, you are to give your Consent to my Marriage, which is to your self, you know:  But Mum, you must take up notice of that.  So then I will, that is, with your Leave, put my Writings into his Hands; then to Morrow we come slap upon them with a Wedding, that no body thought on; by which you seize me and my Estate, and I suppose make a Bonfire of your own Act and Deed.

Sir Fran. Nay, but Chargee, if—­

Miran. Nay, Gardee, no Ifs—­Have I refus’d three Northern Lords, two British Peers, and half a score Knights, to have you put in your Ifs?—­

Sir Fran. So thou hast indeed, and I will trust to thy Management.  Od, I’m all of a Fire.

Miran. ’Tis a wonder the dry Stubble does not blaze.

  Enter Marplot_._

Sir Fran. How now! who sent for you, Sir?  What’s the Hundred Pound gone already?

Marpl. No, Sir, I don’t want Money now.

Sir Fran. No, that’s a Miracle!  But there’s one thing you want, I’m sure.

Marpl. Ay, what’s that, Guardian?

Sir Fran. Manners, what had I no Servants without?

Marpl. None that cou’d do my Business, Guardian, which is at present with this Lady.

Miran. With me, Mr. Marplot! what is it, I beseech you?

Sir Fran. Ay, Sir, what is it? any thing that relates to her may be deliver’d to me.