he comes up those Stairs.

_Miran._ Here, here, here! can you condescend to stand behind this
Chimney-Board, Sir _George?_

Sir _Geo._ Any where, any where, dear Madam, without Ceremony.

_Scentw._ Come, come, Sir; lie close--
(_They put him behind the Chimney-Board._

_Enter Sir _Francis_ and _Marplot_: Sir _Francis_ peeling an Orange_._

Sir _Fran._ I cou'd not go, tho' 'tis upon Life and Death, without
taking leave of dear _Chargee_. Besides, this Fellow buz'd in my Ears,
that thou might'st be so desperate to shoot that wild Rake which haunts
the Garden-Gate; and that wou'd bring us into Trouble, dear--

_Miran._ So, _Marplot_ brought you back then: I am oblig'd to him for
that, I'm sure--
(_Frowning at _Marplot_ aside._

_Marpl._ By her Looks she means she is not oblig'd to me. I have done
some Mischief now, but what I can't imagine.

Sir _Fran._ Well, _Chargee_, I have had three Messengers to come to
_Epsom_ to my Neighbour _Squeezum_'s who, for all his vast Riches, is
departing.
(_Sighs._

_Marpl._ Ay, see what all you Usurers must come to.

Sir _Fran._ Peace, ye young Knave! Some Forty Years hence I may think
on't--But, _Chargee_, I'll be with thee to Morrow, before those pretty
Eyes are open; I will, I will, _Chargee_, I'll rouze you, I saith.--Here
Mrs. _Scentwell_, lift up your Lady's Chimney-Board, that I may throw my
Peel in, and not litter her Chamber.

_Miran._ Oh my Stars! what will become of us now?

_Scentw._ Oh, pray Sir, give it me; I love it above all things in
Nature, indeed I do.

Sir _Fran._ No, no, Hussy; you have the Green Pip already, I'll have no
more Apothecary's Bills.
(_Goes towards the Chimney._

_Miran._ Hold, hold, hold, dear _Gardee_, I have a, a, a, a, a Monkey
shut up there; and if you open it before the Man comes that is to tame
it, 'tis so wild 'twill break all my China, or get away, and that wou'd
break my Heart; for I am fond on't to Distraction, next thee, dear
_Gardee_.
(_In a flattering Tone._

Sir _Fran._ Well, well, _Chargee_, I wont open it; she shall have her
Monkey, poor Rogue; here throw this Peel out of the Window.

(_Exit _Scentwell_._

_Marpl._ A Monkey, dear Madam, let me see it; I can tame a Monkey as
well as the best of them all. Oh how I love the little Minatures of Man.

_Miran._ Be quiet, Mischief, and stand farther from the Chimney--You
shall not see my Monkey--why sure--
(_Striving with him._

_Marpl._