Sir _Geo._ Ha! _Marplot_, here--Oh the unlucky Dog--what's the matter, Sir _Jealous?_ Sir _Jeal._ Nay, I don't know the matter, Mr._Meanwell_. _Marpl._ Upon my Soul, Sir _George_-- (_Going up to Sir _Geo.__ Sir _Jeal._ Nay then, I'm betray'd, ruin'd, undone: Thieves, Traytors, Rogues! (_Offers to go in._) Stop the Marriage, I say-- Sir _Geo._ I say, go on Mr._Tackum_--Nay, no Ent'ring here, I guard this Passage, old Gentleman; the Act and Deed were both your own, and I'll see 'em sign'd, or die for't. _Enter Servants._ Sir _Jeal._ A pox on the Act and Deed!--Fall on, knock him down. Sir _Geo._ Ay, come on, Scoundrils! I'll prick your Jackets for you. Sir _Jeal._ Z'ounds, Sirrah, I'll be Reveng'd on you. (_Beats _Marplot_._ Sir _Geo._ Ay, there your Vengeance is due; Ha, ha. _Marpl._ Why, what do you beat me for? I ha'nt marry'd your Daughter. Sir _Jeal._ Rascals! why don't you knock him down? _Serv._ We are afraid of his Sword, Sir; if you'll take that from him, we'll knock him down presently. _Enter _Charles_ and _Isabinda_._ Sir _Jeal._ Seize her then. _Char._ Rascals, retire; she's my Wife, touch her if you dare, I'll make Dogs meat of you. Sir _Jeal._ Ah! downright _English_:--Oh, oh, oh, oh! _Enter Sir _Francis Gripe_, _Mirand_, _Patch_, _Scentwell_, and _Whisper_._ Sir _Fran._ Into the House of Joy we Enter without knocking: Ha! I think 'tis the House of Sorrow, Sir _Jealous_. Sir _Jeal._ Oh Sir _Francis!_ are you come? What was this your Contrivance, to abuse, trick, and chouse me of my Child! Sir _Fran._ My Contrivance! what do you mean? Sir _Jeal._ No, you don't know your Son there in _Spanish_ Habit. Sir _Fran._ How! my Son in _Spanish_ Habit. Sirrah, you'll come to be hang'd; get out of my sight, ye Dog! get out of my sight. Sir _Jeal._ Get out of your sight, Sir! Get out with your Bags; let's see what you'll give him now to maintain my Daughter on. Sir _Fran._ Give him! He shall be never the better for a Penny of mine--and you might have look'd after your Daughter better, Sir _Jealous_. Trick'd, quotha! Egad, I think you design'd to trick me: But look ye, Gentlemen, I believe I shall trick you both. This Lady is my Wife, do you see? And my Estate shall descend only to the Heirs of her Body. Sir _Geo._ Lawfully begotten by me--I shall be extremely oblig'd to you, Sir _Francis_. Sir _Fran._ Ha, ha, ha, ha, poor Sir _George!_ You see your Project was of no use. Does not your Hundred Pound stick in your Stomach? Ha, ha, ha. Sir _Geo._ No faith, Sir _Francis_, this Lady has given me a Cordial for that. (_Takes her by the Hand._ Sir _Fran._ Hold, Sir, you have nothing to say to this Lady. Sir _Geo._ Nor you nothing to do with my Wife, Sir. Sir _Fran._ Wife, Sir! _Miran._ Ay really, _Guardian_, 'tis even so. I hope you'll forgive my first Offence. Sir _Fran._ What have you chous'd me out of my Consent, and your Writings then, Mistress, ha?