alous_, which he drop'd one Day; you understand _Spanish_, and the
Hand may be counterfeited: You conceive me, Sir.

_Char._ My better Genius, thou hast reviv'd my drooping Soul: I'll about
it instantly. Come to my Lodgings, and we'll concert Matters.

(_Exeunt._

SCENE a Garden Gate open, _Scentwell_ waiting within.

_Enter Sir _George Airy_._

Sir _Geo._ So, this is the Gate, and most invitingly open: If there
shou'd be a Blunderbuss here now, what a dreadful Ditty wou'd my Fall
make for Fools; and what a Jest for the Wits; how my Name wou'd be
roar'd about Streets. Well I'll venture all.

_Scentw._ Hist, hist, Sir _George Airy_--
(_Enters._

Sir _Geo._ A Female Voice, thus far I'm safe, my Dear.

_Scentw._ No, I'm not your Dear, but I'll conduct you to her, give me
your Hand; you must go thro' many a dark Passage and dirty Step before
you arrive--

Sir _Geo._ I know I must before I arrive at Paradise; therefore be quick
my charming Guide.

_Scentw._ For ought you know; come, come your Hand and away.

Sir _Geo._ Here, here Child, you can't be half so swift as my Desires.

(_Exeunt._

SCENE the House.

_Enter _Miranda_._

_Miran._ Well, let me reason a little with my mad self. Now don't I
transgress all Rules to venture upon a Man, without the Advice of the
Grave and Wise; but then a rigid knavish Guardian who wou'd have marry'd
me. To whom? Even to his nauseous self, or no Body: Sir _George_ is what
I have try'd in Conversation, inquir'd into his Character, am satisfied
in both. Then his Love; who wou'd have given a hundred Pound only to
have seen a Woman he had not infinitely loved? So I find my liking him
has furnish'd me with Arguments enough of his side; and now the only
Doubt remains whether he will come or no.

_Enter _Scentwell_._

_Scentw._ That's resolv'd, Madam, for here's the Knight.
_Exit_ Scentwell.

Sir _Geo._ And do I once more behold that lovely Object, whose Idea
fills my Mind, and forms my pleasing Dreams!

_Miran._ What beginning again in Heroicks!--Sir _George_, don't you
remember how little Fruit your last Prodigal Oration produced, not one
bare single Word in answer.

Sir _Geo._ Ha! the Voice of my _Incognita_--Why did you take Ten
Thousand ways to captivate a Heart your Eyes alone had vanquish'd?

_Miran._ Prithee, no more of these Flights; for our Time's but short,
and we must fall into Business: Do you think we can agree on that same
terri