Scentw. Madam, be pleas’d to tye this Neck-lace on; for I can’t get it into the—­ (Seeing Sir Francis_._

Miran. The Wench is a Fool, I think! cou’d you not have carry’d it to be mended, without putting it in the Box?

Sir Fran. What’s the matter?

Miran. Only Dear’e, I bid her, I bid her—­Your ill Usage has put every thing out of my Head.  But won’t you go, Gardee, and find out these Fellows, and have them punish’d! and, and—­

Sir Fran. Where shou’d I look them, Child?  No I’ll sit me down contented with my Safety, nor stir out of my own Doors, till I go with thee to a Parson.

Miran. (Aside.) If he goes into his Closet I am ruin’d.  Oh! bless me in this Fright, I had forgot Mrs. Patch.

Patch. Ay, Madam, and I stay for your speedy Answer.

Miran. (Aside.) I must get him out of the House.  Now assist me Fortune.

Sir Fran. Mrs. Patch, I profess I did not see you, how dost thou do, Mrs. Patch; well don’t you repent leaving my Chargee?

Patch. Yes, every body must love her—­but I came now—­Madam, what did
I come for, my Invention is at the last Ebb.
    (Aside to Miranda_._

Sir Fran. Nay, never Whisper, tell me.

Miran. She came, dear Gardee to invite me to her Lady’s Wedding, and you shall go with me Gardee, ’tis to be done this Moment to a Spanish Merchant; Old Sir Jealous keeps on his Humour, the first Minute he sees her, the next he marries her.

Sir Fran. Ha, ha, ha, I’d go if I thought the sight of Matrimony wou’d tempt Chargee to perform her Promise:  There was a smile, there was a consenting Look with those pretty Twinklers, worth a Million.  Ods precious, I am happier than the Great Mogul, the Emperour of China, or all the Potentates that are not in Wars.  Speak, confirm it, make me leap out of my Skin.

Miran. When one has resolv’d, ’tis in vain to stand shall I, shall I, if ever I marry, positively this is my Wedding Day.

Sir Fran. Oh! happy, happy Man—­Verily I will beget a Son, the first Night shall disinherit that Dog, Charles.  I have Estate enough to purchase a Barony, and be the immortalizing the whole Family of the Gripes.

Miran. Come then Gardee, give me thy Hand, let’s to this House of Hymen.
  My Choice is fix’d, let good or ill betide,

Sir Fran.
  The joyful Bridegroom, I

Miran.
  And I the happy Bride.

    (Exeunt.

  Enter Sir Jealous_ meeting a Servant._

Serv. Sir, here’s a couple of Gentlemen enquire for you; one of ’em calls himself Seignor Diego Babinetto.

Sir Jeal. Ha! Seignor Babinetto! Admit ’em instantly—­Joyful Minute; I’ll have my Daughter marry’d to Night.