_Isab._ Or to the _Spanish_ Ladies Veils, and _Duenna's_, for the Safeguard of their Honour. Sir _Jeal._ Dare to Ridicule the Cautious Conduct of that wise Nation, and I'll have you Lock'd up this Fortnight, without a Peephole. _Isab._ If we had but the Ghostly Helps in _England_, which they have in _Spain_, I might deceive you if you did,--Sir, 'tis not the Restraint, but the Innate Principles, secures the Reputation and Honour of our Sex--Let me tell you, Sir, Confinement sharpens the Invention, as want of Sight strengthens the other Senses, and is often more Pernicious than the Recreation innocent Liberty allows. Sir _Jeal._ Say you so, Mistress, who the Devil taught you the Art of Reasoning? I assure you, they must have a greater Faith than I pretend to, that can think any Woman innocent who requires Liberty. Therefore, _Patch_, to your Charge I give her; Lock her up till I come back from Change: I shall have some sauntring Coxcomb, with nothing but a Red Coat and a Feather, think, by Leaping into her Arms, to Leap into my Estate--But I'll prevent them, she shall be only Signeur _Babinetto_'s. _Patch._ Really, Sir, I wish you wou'd employ any Body else in this Affair; I lead a Life like a Dog with obeying your Commands. Come, Madam, will you please to be Lock'd up. _Isab._ Ay, to enjoy more Freedom than he is aware of. (_Aside._ (_Exit with _Patch_._ Sir _Jeal._ I believe this Wench is very true to my Interest: I am happy I met with her, if I can but keep my Daughter from being blown upon till Signeur _Babinetto_ arrives; who shall marry her as soon as he comes, and carry her to _Spain_ as soon as he has marry'd her; she has a pregnant Wit, and I'd no more have her an _English_ Wife, than the Grand Signior's Mistress. (_Exit._ _Enter _Whisper_._ _Whisp._ So, I see Sir _Jealous_ go out; where shall I find Mrs. _Patch_ now. _Enter _Patch_._ _Patch._ Oh Mr. _Whisper_, my Lady saw you out at the Window, and order'd me to bid you fly, and let your Master know she's now alone. _Whisp._ Hush, Speak softly; I go, go: But hark'e Mrs. _Patch_, shall not you and I have a little Confabulation, when my Master and your Lady is engag'd? _Patch._ Ay, Ay, Farewell. (_Goes in, and shuts the Door._ _Re-enter Sir _Jealous Traffick_ meeting _Whisper_._ Sir _Jeal._ Sure whil'st I was talking with Mr. _Tradewell_, I heard my Door clap. (_Seeing _Whisper_._) Ha! a Man lurking about my House; who do you want there, Sir? _Whisp._ Want--want, a pox, Sir _Jealous!_ what must I say now?-- (_Aside._ Sir _Jeal._ Ay, want; have you a Letter or Message for any Body there?--O my Conscience, this is some He-Bawd-- _Whisp._ Letter or Message, Sir! Sir _Jeal._ Ay, Letter or Message, Sir. _Whisp._ No, not I, Sir. Sir _Jeal._ Sirrah, Sirrah, I'll have you set in the Stocks, if you don't tell me your Business immediately.