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_._

Sir Jeal. If this Paper has a Meaning I’ll find it.  Lay the Cloath in my Daughter’s Chamber, and bid the Cook send Supper thither presently.

Butl. Yes, Sir,—­hey day, what’s the Matter now?
    [Exit.

Sir Jeal. He wants the Eyes of Argus, that has a young handsome
Daughter in this Town, but my Comfort is, I shall not be troubl’d long
with her.  He that pretends to rule a Girl once in her Teens, had better
be at Sea in a Storm, and would be in less Danger.
  For let him do, or Counsel all he can,
  She thinks and dreams of nothing else but Man.
    [Exit.

SCENE Isabinda’s Chamber, Isabinda and Patch.

Isab. Are you sure, no Body saw you speak to Whisper?

Patch. Yes, very sure Madam, but I heard Sir Jealous coming down
Stairs, so I clap’d this Letter into my Pocket.
    (Feels for the Letter.

Isab. A Letter! give it me quickly.

Patch. Bless me! what’s become on’t—­I’m sure I put it—­
    (Searching still.

Isab. Is it possible, thou could’st be so Careless—­Oh!  I’m undone for ever if it be lost.

Patch. I must have drop’d it upon the Stairs.  But why are you so much alarm’d, if the worst happens no body can read it, Madam, nor find out whom it was design’d for.

Isab. If it falls into my Father’s Hands the very Figure of a Letter will produce ill Consequences.  Run and look for it upon the Stairs this Moment.

Patch. Nay, I’m sure it can be no where else.—­ (As she’s going out of the Door meets the Butler.) How now, what do you want?

Butl. My Master order’d me to lay the Cloth here for his Supper.

Isab. Ruin’d past Redemption—­
    (Aside.

Patch. You mistake sure; what shall we do?

Isab. I thought he expected Company to Night—­Oh! poor Charles—­Oh! unfortunate Isabinda.

Butl. I thought so too Madam, but I suppose he has alter’d his Mind.
    (Lays the Cloth, and Exit.

Isab. The Letter is the Cause; this heedless Action has undone me:  Fly and fasten the Closet-window, which will give Charles notice to retire.  Ha, my Father, oh!  Confusion.

  Enter Sir Jealous_._

Sir Jeal. Hold, hold, Patch, whither are you going.  I’ll have no body stir out of the Room till after Supper.

Patch. Sir, I was only going to reach your easie Chair—­Oh! wretched Accident!