Char. Well, but it is no Duel, Consequently no Danger.  Therefore prithee be Answer’d.

Marpl. What is’t a Mistress then?—­Mum—­You know I can be silent upon occasion.

Char. I wish you cou’d be Civil too:  I tell you, You neither Must nor
Shall go with me.  Farewel.
    (Exit.

Marpl. Why then—­I Must and Will follow you.
    Exit.

    The End of the Second Act.

ACT the Third

  Enter Charles_._

Char. Well, here’s the House, which holds the Lovely Prize quiet and serene; here no noisie Footmen throng to tell the World, that Beauty dwells within; no Ceremonious Visit makes the Lover wait; no Rival to give my Heart a Pang; who wou’d not scale the Window at Midnight without fear of the Jealous Father’s Pistol, rather than fill up the Train of a Coquet, where every Minute he is jostled out of Place. (Knocks softly.) Mrs. Patch, Mrs. Patch.

  Enter Patch_._

Patch. Oh, are you come, Sir?  All’s safe.

Char. So in, in then.

  Enter Marplot_._

Marpl. There he goes:  Who the Devil lives here?  Except I can find out that, I am as far from knowing his Business as ever; gad I’ll watch, it may be a Bawdy-House, and he may have his Throat cut; if there shou’d be any Mischief, I can make Oath, he went in.  Well, Charles, in spight of your Endeavour to keep me out of the Secret; I may save your Life, for ought I know:  At that Corner I’ll plant my self; there I shall see whoever goes in, or comes out.  Gad, I love Discoveries.
    (Exit.

SCENE Draws. Charles_, Isabinda, and Patch._

Isab. Patch, look out sharp; have a care of Dad.

Patch. I warrant you.
    (Exit.

Isab. Well, Sir, if I may judge your Love by your Courage, I ought to believe you sincere; for you venture into the Lyons Den when you come to see me.

Char. If you’d consent whilst the furious Beast is abroad, I’d free you from the Reach of his Paws.

Isab. That wou’d be but to avoid one Danger, by running into another; like the poor Wretches, who fly the Burning Ship, and meet their Fate in the Water.  Come, come, Charles, I fear if I consult my Reason, Confinement and Plenty is better than Liberty and Starving.  I know you’d make the Frolick pleasing for a little time, by Saying and Doing a World of tender things; but when our small Substance is once Exhausted, and a Thousand Requisits for Life are Wanting; Love, who rarely dwells with Poverty, wou’d also fail us.

Char. Faith, I fancy not; methinks my Heart has laid up a Stock will last for Life; to back which, I have taken a Thousand Pound upon my Uncle’s Estate; that surely will support us, till one of our Fathers relent.