_Char._ But who knows what that unlucky Dog, _Marplot_, told him; nor can I imagine what brought him thither; that Fellow is ever doing Mischief; and yet, to give him his due, he never designs it. This is some Blundering Adventure, wherein he thought to shew his Friendship, as he calls it: A Curse on him. Sir _Geo._ Then you must forgive him; what said he? _Char._ Said! nay, I had more mind to cut his Throat, than hear his Excuses. Sir _Geo._ Where is he? _Whisp._ Sir, I saw him go into Sir _Francis Gripe_'s just now. _Char._ Oh! then he is upon your Business, Sir _George_; a thousand to one, but he makes some Mistake there too. Sir _Geo._ Impossible, without he huffs the Lady, and makes Love to Sir _Francis_. _Enter Drawer._ _Draw._ Mr. _Marplot_ is below, Gentlemen, and desires to know if he may have Leave to wait upon ye. _Char._ How civil the Rogue is when he has done a fault! Sir _Geo._ Ho! Desire him to walk up. Prithee, _Charles_, throw off this Chagreen, and be good Company. _Char._ Nay, hang him, I'm not angry with him. _Whisper_, fetch me Pen, Ink and Paper. _Whisp._ Yes, Sir. (_Ex. _Whisp_._ _Enter _Marplot_._ _Char._ Do but mark his sheepish Look, Sir _George_. _Marpl._ Dear _Charles,_ don't o'erwhelm a Man--already under insupportable Affliction. I'm sure I always intend to serve my Friends; but if my malicious Stars deny the Happiness, is the fault mine? Sir _Geo._ Never mind him, Mr. _Marplot_, he is eat up with Spleen. But tell me, what says _Miranda?_ _Marpl._ Says--nay, we are all undone there too. _Char._ I told you so; nothing prospers that he undertakes. _Marpl._ Why can I help her having chose your Father for Better for Worse? _Char._ So: There's another of Fortune's Strokes; I suppose I shall be Edg'd out of my Estate, with Twins every Year, let who will get 'em. Sir _Geo._ What is the Woman really Possest? _Marpl._ Yes with the Spirit of Contradiction, she rail'd at you most prodigiously. Sir _Geo._ That's no ill Sign. _Enter _Whisper_, with Pen, Ink and Paper._ _Marpl._ You'd say it was no good Sign, if you knew all. Sir _Geo._ Why, prithee? _Marpl._ Hark'e, Sir _George_, Let me warn you, pursue your old Haunt no more, it may be dangerous. (Charles _sits down to write._ Sir _Geo._ My old Haunt, what d'you mean? _Marpl._ Why in short then, since you will have it, _Miranda_ vows if you dare approach the Garden-Gate at Eight a Clock, as you us'd, you shall be saluted with a Blunderbuss, Sir. These were her Words; nay, she bid me tell you so too. Sir _George_, Ha! The Garden-Gate at Eight, as I us'd to do! There must be a Meaning in this. Is there such a Gate, _Charles?_ _Char._ Yes, yes; it opens into the Park, I suppose her Ladyship has made many a Scamper through it. Sir _Geo_. It must be an Assignation then. Ha, my Heart springs with Joy, 'tis a propitious Omen. My dear _Marplot_, let me embrace thee, thou art my Friend, my better Angel--