Sir Geo. I kiss both your Hands—­And now for the Garden-Gate.

  It’s Beauty gives the Assignation 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 Slut, 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?