_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 terrible Bugbear, _Matrimony_, without heartily Repenting on both sides. Sir _Geo._ It has been my wish since first my longing Eyes beheld ye. _Miran._ And your happy Ears drank in the pleasing News, I had Thirty Thousand Pound. Sir _Geo._ Unkind! Did I not offer you in those purchas'd Minutes to run the Risque of your Fortune, so you wou'd but secure that lovely Person to my Arms. _Miran._ Well, if you have such Love and Tenderness, (since our Woing has been short) pray reserve it for our future Days, to let the World see we are Lovers after Wedlock; 'twill be a Novelty-- Sir _Geo._ Haste then, and let us tye the Knot, and prove the envy'd Pair-- _Miran._ Hold! not so fast, I have provided better than to venture on dangerous Experiments headlong--My _Guardian_, trusting to my dissembled Love, has given up my Fortune to my own dispose; but with this _Proviso_, that he to Morrow morning weds me. He is now gone to _Doctors Commons_ for a License. Sir _Geo._ Ha, a License! _Miran._ But I have planted Emissaries that infallibly take him down to _Epsom_, under pretence that a Brother Usurer of his, is to make him his Executor; the thing on Earth he covets. Sir _Geo._ 'Tis his known Character. _Miran._ Now my Instruments confirm him, this Man is dying, and he sends me word he goes this Minute; it must be to Morrow e'er he can be undeceiv'd. That time is ours. Sir _Geo._ Let us improve it then, and settle on our coming Years, endless, endless Happiness. _Miran._ I dare not stir till I hear he's on the Road--then I and my Writings, the most material point, are soon removed. Sir _Geo._ I have one Favour to ask, if it lies in your power, you wou'd be a Friend to poor _Charles_, tho' the Son of this tenacious Man: He is as free from all his Vices, as Nature and a good Education can make him; and what now I have vanity enough to hope will induce you, he is the Man on Earth I love. _Miran._ I never was his Enemy, and only put it on as it help'd my Designs on his Father. If his Uncle's Estate ought to be in his Possession, which I shrewdly suspect, I may do him a singular piece of Service. Sir _Geo._ You are all Goodness. _Enter _Scentwell_._ _Scentw._ Oh, Madam, my Master and Mr. _Marplot_ are just coming into the House. _Miran._ Undone, undone! if he finds you here in this Crisis, all my Plots are unravell'd. Sir _Geo._ What shall I do! can't I get back into the Garden? _Scentw._ Oh, no! he comes up those Stairs.