Char. Well hinted.
    (Aside.

Sir Jeal. Pat to my Purpose—­Well, Sir, there is but one thing more, and they shall be married instantly.

Char. Pray Heaven, that one thing more don’t spoil all.
    (Aside.

Sir Jeal. Don Pedro writ me Word in his last but one, that he design’d the Sum of Five Thousand Crowns by way of Joynture for my Daughter; and that it shou’d be paid into my Hand upon the Day of Marriage.

Char. Oh! the Devil.
    (Aside.

Sir Jeal. In order to lodge it in some of our Funds, in case she should become a Widow, and return for England.

Sir Geo. Pox on’t, this is an unlucky Turn.  What shall I say?
    (Aside.

Sir Jeal. And he does not mention one Word of it in this Letter.

Char. I don’t know how he should.
    (Aside.

Sir Geo. Humph!  True, Sir Jealous, he told me such a Thing, but, but, but, but—­he, he, he, he—­he did not imagine that you would insist upon the very Day, for, for, for, for Money you know is dangerous returning by Sea, an, an, an, an—­

Char. Zounds, say we have brought it in Commodities.
    (Aside to Sir George.

Sir Geo. And so Sir, he has sent it in Merchandize, Tobacco, Sugars, Spices, Limons, and so forth, which shall be turn’d into Money with all Expedition:  In the mean time, Sir, if you please to accept of my Bond for Performance.

Sir Jeal. It is enough, Sir, I am so pleas’d with the Countenance of Seignor Diego, and the Harmony of your Name, that I’ll take your Word, and will fetch my Daughter this Moment.  Within there (Enter Servant) desire Mr. Tackum my Neighbour’s Chaplain to walk hither.

Serv. Yes, Sir.
    (Exit.

Sir Jeal. Gentlemen, I’ll return in an Instant.
    (Exit.

Char. Wondrous well.  Let me embrace thee.

Sir Geo. Egad that 5000 l. had like to have ruin’d the Plot.

Char. But that’s over!  And if Fortune throws no more Rubs in our way.

Sir Geo. Thou’lt carry the Prize—­but hist, here he comes.

  Enter Sir Jealous_, dragging in Isabinda._

Sir Jeal. Come along, you stubborn Baggage you, come along.

Isab.
  Oh hear me, Sir! hear me but speak one Word,
  Do not destroy my everlasting Peace;
  My Soul abhors this Spaniard you have chose
  Nor can I wed him without being curst.

Sir Jeal. How’s that!

Isab.
  Let this Posture move your tender Nature. (Kneels.
  For ever will I hang upon these Knees;
  Nor loose my Hands till you cut off my hold,
  If you refuse to hear me, Sir.