The Busie Body Part 3

_Cha._ _Marplot_, you must excuse me, I am engag'd.

(_Exit._

_Marpl._ Engag'd, Egad I'll engage my Life, I'll know what your Engagement is.

(_Exit._

_Miran._ (_Coming out of a Chair._) Let the Chair wait: My Servant, That dog'd Sir _George_ said he was in the Park.

_Enter _Patch_._

Ha! Mis _Patch_ alone, did not you tell me you had contriv'd a way to bring _Isabinda_ to the Park?

_Patch._ Oh, Madam, your Ladis.h.i.+p can't imagine what a wretched Disappointment we have met with: Just as I had fetch'd a Suit of my Cloaths for a Disguise: comes my old Master into his Closet, which is right against her Chamber Door; this struck us into a terrible Fright--At length I put on a Grave Face, and ask'd him if he was at leisure for his Chocolate, in hopes to draw him out of his Hole; but he snap'd my Nose off, No, I shall be busie here this two Hours; at which my poor Mistress seeing no way of Escape, order'd me to wait on your Ladis.h.i.+p with the sad Relation.

_Miran._ Unhappy _Isabinda!_ Was ever any thing so unaccountable as the Humour of Sir _Jealousie Traffick_.

_Patch._ Oh, Madam, it's his living so long in _Spain_, he vows he'll spend half his Estate, but he'll be a Parliament-Man, on purpose to bring in a Bill for Women to wear Veils, and the other odious _Spanish_ Customs--He swears it is the height of Impudence to have a Woman seen Bare-fac'd even at Church, and scarce believes there's a true begotten Child in the City.

_Miran._ Ha, ha, ha, how the old Fool torments himself! Suppose he could introduce his rigid Rules--does he think we cou'd not match them in Contrivance? No, no; Let the Tyrant Man make what Laws he will, if there's a Woman under the Government, I warrant she finds a way to break 'em: Is his Mind set upon the _Spaniard_ for his Son-in-law still?

_Patch._ Ay, and he expects him by the next Fleet, which drives his Daughter to Melancholy and Despair: But, Madam, I find you retain the same gay, cheerful Spirit you had, when I waited on your Ladis.h.i.+p.--My Lady is mighty good-humour'd too, and I have found a way to make Sir _Jealousie_ believe I am wholly in his Interest, when my real Design is to serve her; he makes me her Jaylor, and I set her at Liberty.

_Miran._ I know thy Prolifick Brain wou'd be of singular Service to her, or I had not parted with thee to her Father.

_Patch._ But, Madam, the Report is that you are going to marry your Guardian.

_Miran._ It is necessary such a Report shou'd be, _Patch_.

_Patch._ But is it true, Madam?

_Miran._ That's not absolutely necessary.

_Patch._ I thought it was only the old Strain, coaxing him still for your own, and railing at all the young Fellows about Town; in my Mind now, you are as ill plagu'd with your Guardian, Madam, as my Lady is with her Father.

_Miran._ No, I have Liberty, Wench, that she wants; what would she give now to be in this _dissabilee_ in the--open Air, nay more, in pursuit of the young Fellow she likes; for that's my Case, I a.s.sure thee.

_Patch._ As for that, Madam, she's even with you; for tho' she can't come abroad, we have a way to bring him home in spight of old _Argus_.

_Miran._ Now _Patch_, your Opinion of my Choice, for here he comes--Ha!

my Guardian with him; what can be the meaning of this? I'm sure Sir _Francis_ can't know me in this Dress--Let's observe 'em.

(_They withdraw._

_Enter Sir _Francis Gripe_ and Sir _George Airy_._

Sir _Fran._ Verily, Sir _George_, thou wilt repent throwing away thy Money so, for I tell thee sincerely, _Miranda_, my Charge do's not love a young Fellow, they are all vicious, and seldom make good Husbands; in sober Sadness she cannot abide 'em.

_Miran._ (_Peeping._) In sober Sadness you are mistaken--what can this mean?

Sir _Geo._ Look ye, Sir _Francis_, whether she can or cannot abide young Fellows is not the Business; will you take the fifty Guineas?

Sir _Fran._ In good truth--I will not, for I knew thy Father, he was a hearty wary Man, and I cannot consent that his Son should squander away what he sav'd, to no purpose.

_Mirand._ (_Peeping._) Now, in the Name of Wonder, what Bargain can he be driving about me for fifty Guineas?

_Patch._ I wish it ben't for the first Night's Lodging, Madam.

Sir _Geo._ Well, Sir _Francis_, since you are so conscientious for my Father's sake, then permit me the Favour, _Gratis_.

_Miran._ (_Peeping._) The Favour! Oh my Life! I believe 'tis as you said, _Patch_.

Sir _Fran._ No verily, if thou dost not buy thy Experience, thou wou'd never be wise; therefore give me a Hundred and try Fortune.

Sir _Geo._ The Scruples arose, I find, from the scanty Sum--Let me see--a Hundred Guineas-- (_Takes 'em out of a Purse and c.h.i.n.ks 'em._) Ha! they have a very pretty Sound, and a very pleasing Look--But then, _Miranda_--But if she should be cruel--

_Miran._ (_Peeping._) As Ten to One I shall--

Sir _Fran._ Ay, do consider on't, He, he, he, he.

Sir _Geo._ No, I'll do't.

_Patch._ Do't, what, whether you will or no, Madam?

Sir _Geo._ Come to the Point, here's the Gold, sum up the Conditions--

Sir _Fran._ (_Pulling out a Paper_.)

_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Ay for Heaven's sake do, for my Expectation is on the Rack.

Sir _Fran._ Well at your own Peril be it.

Sir _Geo._ Aye, aye, go on.

Sir _Fran._ _Imprimis_, you are to be admitted into my House in order to move your Suit to _Miranda_, for the s.p.a.ce of Ten Minutes, without Lett or Molestation, provided I remain in the same Room.

Sir _Geo._ But out of Ear shot--

Sir _Fran._ Well, well, I don't desire to hear what you say, Ha, ha, ha, in consideration I am to have that Purse and a hundred Guineas.

Sir _Geo._ Take it-- (_Gives him the Purse_.

_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) So, 'tis well it's no worse, I'll fit you both--

Sir _Geo._ And this Agreement is to be perform'd to Day.

Sir _Fran._ Aye, aye, the sooner the better, poor Fool, how _Miranda_ and I shall laugh at him--Well, Sir _George_, Ha, ha, ha, take the last sound of your Guineas, Ha, ha, ha. (_c.h.i.n.ks 'em_.) (Exit.

_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Sure he does not know I am _Miranda_.

Sir _Geo._ A very extraordinary Bargain I have made truly, if she should be really in Love with this old Cuff now--Psha, that's morally impossible--but then what hopes have I to succeed, I never spoke to her--