Sir Fran. My Contrivance! what do you mean?

Sir Jeal. No, you don’t know your Son there in Spanish Habit.

Sir Fran. How! my Son in Spanish Habit.  Sirrah, you’ll come to be hang’d; get out of my sight, ye Dog! get out of my sight.

Sir Jeal. Get out of your sight, Sir!  Get out with your Bags; let’s see what you’ll give him now to maintain my Daughter on.

Sir Fran. Give him!  He shall be never the better for a Penny of mine—­and you might have look’d after your Daughter better, Sir Jealous.  Trick’d, quotha!  Egad, I think you design’d to trick me:  But look ye, Gentlemen, I believe I shall trick you both.  This Lady is my Wife, do you see?  And my Estate shall descend only to the Heirs of her Body.

Sir Geo. Lawfully begotten by me—­I shall be extremely oblig’d to you, Sir Francis.

Sir Fran. Ha, ha, ha, ha, poor Sir George! You see your Project was of no use.  Does not your Hundred Pound stick in your Stomach?  Ha, ha, ha.

Sir Geo. No faith, Sir Francis, this Lady has given me a Cordial for that.
    (Takes her by the Hand.

Sir Fran. Hold, Sir, you have nothing to say to this Lady.

Sir Geo. Nor you nothing to do with my Wife, Sir.

Sir Fran. Wife, Sir!

Miran. Ay really, Guardian, ’tis even so.  I hope you’ll forgive my first Offence.

Sir Fran. What have you chous’d me out of my Consent, and your
Writings then, Mistress, ha?

Miran. Out of nothing but my own, Guardian.

Sir Jeal. Ha, ha, ha, ’tis some Comfort at least to see you are over-reach’d as well as my self.  Will you settle your Estate upon your Son now?

Sir Fran. He shall starve first.

Miran. That I have taken care to prevent.  There, Sir, is the Writings of your Uncle’s Estate, which has been your due these three Years.
    (Gives Char._ Papers._

Char. I shall study to deserve this Favour.

Sir Fran. What have you robb’d me too, Mistress!  Egad I’ll make you restore ’em.—­Huswife, I will so.

Sir Jeal. Take care I don’t make you pay the Arrears, Sir.  ’Tis well it’s no worse, since ’tis no better.  Come, young Man, seeing thou hast out-witted me, take her, and Bless you both.

Char. I hope, Sir, you’ll bestow your Blessing too, ’tis all I’ll ask.
    (Kneels.

Sir Fran. Confound you all!
    (Exit.

Marpl. Mercy upon us! how he looks!

Sir Geo. Ha, ha, ne’er mind his Curses, Charles; thou’lt thrive not one jot the worse for ’em.  Since this Gentleman is reconcil’d, we are all made happy.

Sir Jeal. I always lov’d Precaution, and took care to avoid Dangers. 
But when a thing was past, I ever had Philosophy to be easie.