The Busie Body Part 18

Sir _Fran._ B'ye, by'e, Dear'e. Ah, Mischief, how you look now! B'ye, b'ye.

(_Exit._

_Miran._ _Scentwell_, see him in the Coach, and bring me word.

_Scentw._ Yes, Madam.

_Miran._ So, Sir, you have done your Friend a signal piece of Service, I suppose.

_Marpl._ Why look you, Madam! if I have committed a fault, thank your self; no Man is more Serviceable when I am let into a Secret, nor none more Unlucky at finding it out. Who cou'd divine your Meaning, when you talk'd of a Blunderbuss, who thought of a Rendevous? and when you talk'd of a Monkey, who the Devil dreamt of Sir _George?_

_Miran._ A sign you converse but little with our s.e.x, when you can't reconcile Contradictions.

_Enter _Scentwell_._

_Scentw._ He's gone, Madam, as fast as the Coach, and Six can carry him.

_Enter Sir _George_._

Sir _Geo._ Then I may appear.

_Marpl._ Dear, Sir _George_, make my Peace! On my Soul, I did not think of you.

Sir _Geo._ I dare swear thou didst not. Madam, I beg you to forgive him.

_Miran._ Well, Sir _George_, if he can be secret.

_Marpl._ Ods heart, Madam, I'm as secret as a Priest when I'm trusted.

Sir _Geo._ Why 'tis with a Priest our Business is at present.

_Scentw._ Madam, here's Mrs. _Isabinda_'s Woman to wait on you.

_Miran._ Bring her up.

_Enter _Patch_._

How do'e, Mrs. _Patch_, what News from your Lady?

_Patch._ That's for your private Ear, Madam. Sir _George_, there's a Friend of yours has an urgent Occasion for your a.s.sistance.

Sir _Geo._ His Name.

_Patch._ _Charles._

_Marpl._ Ha! then there is something a-foot that I know nothing of. I'll wait on you, Sir _George_.

Sir _Geo._ A third Person may not be proper perhaps; as soon as I have dispatch'd my own Affairs, I am at his Service. I'll send my Servant to tell him, I'll wait upon him in half an Hour.

_Miran._ How come you employ'd in this Message, Mrs. _Patch?_

_Patch._ Want of Business, Madam. I am discharg'd by my Master, but hope to serve my Lady still.

_Miran._ How discharg'd! you must tell me the whole Story within.

_Patch._ With all my Heart, Madam.

_Marpl._ Pis.h.!.+ Pox, I wish I were fairly out of the House. I find Marriage is the end of this Secret: And now I am half mad to know what _Charles_ wants him for.

(_Aside._

Sir _Geo._ Madam, I'm doubly press'd, by Love and Friends.h.i.+p: This Exigence admits of no delay. Shall we make _Marplot_ of the Party?

_Miran._ If you'll run the Hazard, Sir _George_; I believe he means well.

_Marpl._ Nay, nay, for my part, I desire to be let into nothing: I'll begon, therefore pray don't mistrust me.

(_Going._

Sir _Geo._ So now has he a mind to be gone to _Charles_: but not knowing what Affairs he may have upon his Hands at present, I'm resolv'd he sha'n't stir: No, Mr. _Marplot_, you must not leave us, we want a third Person.

(_Takes hold of him._

_Marpl._ I never had more mind to be gone in my Life.

_Miran._ Come along then; if we fail in the Voyage, thank your self for taking this ill starr'd Gentleman on Board.

_Sir_ Geo.

_That Vessel ne'er can Unsuccessful prove,_ _Whose Freight is Beauty, and whose Pilot Love._

The End of the Fourth ACT.

ACT the Fifth.

_Enter _Miranda_, _Patch_, and _Scentwell_._

_Miran._ Well, _Patch_, I have done a strange bold thing! my Fate is determin'd, and Expectation is no more. Now to avoid the Impertinence and Roguery of an old Man, I have thrown my self into the Extravagance of a young one; if he shou'd despise, slight or use me ill, there's no Remedy from a Husband, but the Grave; and that's a terrible Sanctuary to one of my Age and Const.i.tution.

_Patch._ O fear not, Madam, you'll find your account in Sir _George Airy_; it is impossible a Man of Sense shou'd use a Woman ill, indued with Beauty, Wit and Fortune. It must be the Lady's fault, if she does not wear the unfas.h.i.+onable Name of Wife easie, when nothing but Complaisance and good Humour is requisite on either side to make them happy.

_Miran._ I long till I am out of this House, lest any Accident shou'd bring my _Guardian_ back. _Scentwell_, put my best Jewels into the little Casket, slip them, into thy Pocket, and let us march off to Sir.

_Jealous_'s.

_Scentw._ It shall be done, Madam.

(_Exit_ Scentwell.

_Patch._ Sir _George_ will be impatient, Madam; if their Plot succeeds, we shall be well receiv'd; if not, he will be able to protect us.

Besides, I long to know how my young Lady fares.