GENERAL EDITORS

H. Richard Archer, Clark Memorial Library
Richard C. Boys, University of Michigan
Edward Niles Hooker, University of California, Los Angeles
H.T. Swedenberg Jr., University of California, Los Angeles

ASSISTANT EDITOR

W. Earl Britton, University of Michigan

ADVISORY EDITORS

Emmett L. Avery, Washington State University
Benjamin Boyce, University of Nebraska
Louis I. Bredvold, University of Michigan
Cleanth Brooks, Yale University
James L. Clifford, Columbia University
Arthur Friedman, University of Chicago
Samuel H. Monk, University of Minnesota
Ernest Mossner, University of Texas
James Sutherland, Queen Mary University of London

Susanna Centlivre (1667?-1723) in The Busie Body (1709) contributed one of the most successful comedies of intrigue of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries to the stage. This play was written during a time when England was shifting towards sentimental drama, showing Mrs. Centlivre as a strong supporter of comedy that makes people laugh. She briefly explored sentimental comedy and found great success with one of her three sentimental plays, The Gamester (1704). However, her true inclination seems to have been toward realistic comedies, mainly of intrigue: out of her nineteen plays written from 1700 to 1723, ten are realistic comedies. Three of these became very popular in her time and had a long stage history: The Busie Body (1709); The Wonder: A Woman Keeps a Secret (1714); and A Bold Stroke for a Wife (1717). The Busie Body best illustrates Mrs. Centlivre's preference for comedy with a humorous yet positive moral tone. The characters and plot are entertaining but inoffensive, and, compared to the works of Restoration drama, meet the growing demand of the eighteenth-century middle-class audience for respectable content on stage.

The idea of comedy that The Busie Body is based on is a traditional one, but Mrs. Centlivre's straightforward statements about the benefits of realistic comedy over sentimental comedy are intriguing because of the debates among critics and writers at that time. In the preface to her first play, The Perjur'd Husband (1700), she takes on Jeremy Collier's claim that realistic plays are immoral. She believes the stage should show characters as they really are; it's unreasonable to expect a "person, whose inclinations are always forming plans to dishonor her husband, should deliver her orders to her confidant in the words of a psalm." In a letter written in 1700, she states: "I think the main aim of Comedy is to make us laugh." (Abel Boyer, Letters of Wit, Politicks, and Morality, London, 1701, p. 362). However, she adds that since Collier has taught religion to the "Rhiming Trade, the Comick Muse in ii Tragick Posture sat" until she discovered Farquhar, whose language is funny yet proper and whose plots are virtuous. This emphasis on propriety and virtue shows a concession to Collier and to the audience. In the preface to Love's Contrivance (1703), she reaffirms her belief that comedy should entertain but also mentions that she aimed for a "modest style" that wouldn't "displease the most discerning ear." This modest style, which wasn't present in her earlier plays, is achieved impressively in The Busie Body. Still, as she notes in the epilogue, she hasn't catered to critics who dampen audience enjoyment to elevate their taste; her play will crown the night with "good humor and pleasure." Through dialogue, plot, and especially in the character of the entertaining yet harmless Marplot, she delivers her straightforward theory of comedy aimed not at reform but at laughter.

Mrs. Centlivre followed the practices of her contemporaries by borrowing the plot for The Busie Body. The three sources for the play are: The Devil Is an Ass (1616) by Jonson; L'Etourdi (1658) by Molière; and Sir Martin Mar-all or The Feigned Innocence (1667) by Dryden. From The Devil Is an Ass, Mrs. Centlivre took minor details and two episodes, one of which is the amusing dumb scene. This scene, while a close imitation, seems more entertaining in The Busie Body than in Jonson's play, possibly because the characters, especially Sir Francis Gripe and Miranda, are more believable and developed. From her second source, Molière's L'Etourdi, I believe Mrs. Centlivre borrowed the structure for her parallel plots, the theme of Marplot's blundering, and the name and general character of Marplot. However, she improved upon what she borrowed. She introduces more relatable female characters than Molière does, particularly the charming Miranda and the crafty Patch; she creates a more skillful intrigue plot for the stage than his subplot and highlights Spanish customs in the lively Charles-Isabinda-Traffick plot. Mrs. Centlivre focuses on Marplot's blunders, while Molière emphasizes the servant Mascarille's schemes. Marplot's funniest blunder, in the "monkey" scene, is entirely original as far as I know (IV, iv). But her biggest change is in the character of Marplot, who becomes not so much stupid as human and hilariously ridiculous in her hands. Mrs. Centlivre's style is, of course, not as refined as Molière's. In the preface to Love's Contrivance (1703), when discussing borrowings from Molière, she mentioned that borrowers "must take care to touch the Colors with an English Pencil, and form the Piece according to our Manners." Her touching the "Colors with an English Pencil" meant adapting Molière's style to suit the less delicate taste of the middle-class English audience.

A third source for The Busie Body is Dryden's Sir Martin Mar-all (1667). Since Dryden closely followed Molière, it's hard to definitively say that Mrs. Centlivre took influence from Molière instead of Dryden. However, after a thorough analysis of the plays, I believe she drew from Molière. She transformed The Busie Body into a comedy of intrigue using the themes and plots shared by both Molière and Dryden, but she left out the scandalous third plot that Dryden added. Her characters speak and act in an English manner, but they don't have the roughness seen in Dryden's Sir Martin Mar-all. While it's impossible to pinpoint the exact sources of Mrs. Centlivre's influences, it's clear that she has enhanced what she borrowed.

Whatever the truth is about Mrs. Centlivre's use of her sources, her play continued to be part of the acting repertoire long after L'Etourdi and Sir Martin Mar-all had vanished. The Busie Body premiered at the Drury Lane Theater on May 12, 1709. Steele, who mentioned the play in The Tatler on May 14, 1709, doesn't specify how long it ran. Thomas Whincop states that the play lasted thirteen nights (Scanderbeg, London, 1747, p. 190), but Genest claims it had an initial run of seven nights (Some Account of the English Stage from the Restoration in 1660 to 1830, II, 419). The play remained popular throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Genest notes it was performed in twenty-three seasons from 1709 to 1800. It was definitely staged much more frequently than this record indicates, as Dougald MacMillan in The Drury Lane Calendar lists fifty-three iv performances from 1747-1776, while Genest records only two during this time. The highest number of performances in any season was fourteen in 1758-59, the year David Garrick appeared in the play. Based on available records, The Busie Body appears to have reached its peak popularity in England during the mid to late eighteenth century and the early nineteenth century. William Hazlitt, in the "Prefatory Remarks" to the Oxberry acting edition of 1819, states that The Busie Body has been performed "a thousand times in town and country, delighting the old, the young, and the middle-aged."

The Busie Body held a significant place in America's theater history but reached its peak popularity, particularly in New York, during the nineteenth century. It was first performed in Williamsburg on September 10, 1736, and had fifteen performances in New York throughout the eighteenth century. In the nineteenth century, it saw forty-five performances in New York over sixteen seasons from 1803 to 1885 (George Odell, Annals of the New York Stage). The Busie Body is often mentioned alongside The Rivals and The School for Scandal for kicking off seasons and for long runs featuring top actors.

The text here is taken from a copy of the first edition currently in the library of the University of Michigan.

Jess Byrd
Salem College

Please, Your Lordship,

As it's become common in recent times for all writers, especially poets, to seek the endorsement of the most distinguished figures, whose approval brings a kind of inspiration that far exceeds what the ancient poets claimed to get from their imaginary Apollo: So, I aimed to present one of my humble works to Your Lordship, who is universally recognized as the best judge of all types of writing.

I was initially discouraged from my plan by the thought that it might be considered incredibly rude to present something so trivial to someone whose great wisdom guides the council that currently determines the fate of all Europe. However, I was encouraged by reflecting on how Lelius and Scipio, the two greatest figures of their time among the Romans, both known for their political and military virtues, found that reading and enjoying Terence's comedies was the best way to free their minds during important matters. I admit it would be extremely vain of me to put my work in the same league as that of the celebrated dramatist. Yet, I hope that Your Lordship's natural goodness and generosity, in deference to the tastes of the finest and most discerning people in the city who have enjoyed the following Scenes, will overlook any flaws your more critical judgment might notice.

And here, my Lord, the moment feels right for me to give a tribute to the natural and acquired abilities that so wonderfully enhance your character. But I’ll resist that temptation, knowing that a female voice might not measure up to such a masculine endeavor; I have no other ambition than to sign my name,

Cha.
Hey! Sir George Airy! Birdwatching this early? What secret adventure has you out and about at such an odd hour? There can't be any legitimate reason for someone like you to be outside at this time.

Sir Geo. There are some men, Charles, whom fortune has left free from worries, yet they are actively looking for ways to make themselves uncomfortable.

Cha. Is it possible for anything in nature to upset a man who receives thousands of pounds from the four seasons of the year, and has a father resting peacefully with his ancestors?

Sir Geo. There it is now! A man who wants money thinks no one can be unhappy if they have it; but my situation is so bizarre that I’d need to look at my astrological birth chart to see if my wealth will help me or not.

Cha. Ha, ha, ha, never look to the stars for that; gold holds power beyond them. Gold opens the secret meetings at midnight; gold surpasses the wind, calms the ship, or fills its sails. Gold is all-powerful down here; it makes entire armies fight or flee. It can even buy souls and bribe the desperate to betray their country. So what could your business possibly be that gold can't help you with?

Sir Geo. Why, I'm in love.

Cha. In Love— Ha, ha, ha, ha; In Love, Ha, ha, ha, with what, pray tell, a Cherub!

Sir Geo. No, with a woman.

Cha. A woman, right? Ha, ha, ha, and gold won’t help you?

Sir Geo. But what if I’m in love with two—

Cha. Yeah, if you’re in love with two hundred, gold will get them for you, I promise you, boy. But who are they? Who are they? Come on.

Sir Geo. One is a woman whose face I've never seen, but she’s as witty as an angel; the other is as beautiful as Venus—

Yeah. And a Fool—

Sir Geo. As far as I know, since I've never talked to her, but you can fill me in; I'm captivated by the wit of one and dying for the beauty of the other?

Cha. So, which one are you looking for now?

Sir Geo. I prefer the physical pleasure, I’m all in for her I’ve seen, who is your father's ward Miranda.

Cha. No, I feel sorry for you; because my father, the Jew, won't part with her or the £30,000 any more than he would with a guinea to keep me from starving.

Sir Geo. Now you see gold can't do everything, Charles.

Cha. Yes, it's her wealth that keeps my father from letting you in.

Sir Geo. Why, if he is this greedy wretch, how did you receive such a generous education?

Cha. Not a penny out of his pocket, I promise you; I had an uncle who covered that expense, but due to some youthful indiscretions, even though he made me his heir, he left Dad my guardian until I reached adulthood, which I doubt the old man will ever believe I am; and now that he has the estate under his control, it benefits me no more than if it were in Prester John's territory.

Sir Geo. What can't you come up with a plan to fix it?

3 B2 Cha. I've tried many times without success; although desperation, the driving force behind creativity, continues to push me forward, the old trickster is still too clever for me—I'm on my final plan, and if that fails, my last resort is a brown musket.

Sir Geo. What is it? How can I help you?

Cha. Not yet, but when you're able to, I trust you enough to ask for it.

Sir Geo. I'm always ready, but what does he plan to do with Miranda? Is she being sold privately, or will he auction her off to the highest bidder? If that's the case, I'm all in: my money, as you say, will be used for my enjoyment.

Cha. To be honest with you, Sir George, I don't know much about Her or Home; ever since my Uncle passed away and I came back from traveling, my relationship with my Father hasn't been great. He believes I'm spending too much, and I think his allowance is too little. Whenever we see each other, we end up arguing, so I try to avoid his house as much as I can. Rumor has it, he plans to marry her himself.

Can she agree to it?

Cha. Yes, they say that’s true; but honestly, I have no clue about it. Miranda and I are like two extreme members of opposing sides—I can barely admit her beauty, even though everyone else does; and she doesn’t see me as polite, so I think she’s already acting like a mother-in-law and getting the old man to cause trouble.

Sir Geo. So, I have your full permission to pursue her.

Cha. Yes, and my assistant, if the need arises.

Sir Geo. Pugh, there's a fool heading our way; let's steer clear of him.

Cha. What Marplot, no, he’s my tool; he has a thousand advantages, he’ll lend me his money when he has it, run my errands and be proud of it; in short, he’ll cover for me, lie for me, drink for me, do anything except fight for me, and I’ll trust my own strength for that.

Sir Geo. Well, I guess we have to put up with him; I never realized his skills before.

Marpl. Dear Charles, yours,— Ha! Sir George Airy, the man of the world, I have a desire to be recognized by you. (aside) Give me your hand, dear boy—

Cha. A good assurance! But tell me, why is your beautiful face looking troubled in the wrong place?

Marpl. I have to admit this is a bit Mal-a-propos, but it doesn’t matter; I need to have a word with you, Charles; please, introduce me to Sir George— he is a clever man, and I’d pay ten guineas to—

Cha. When you have them, you mean.

Marpl. Yeah, when I have them; ugh, you interrupted my train of thought— I’d pay ten guineas, I mean it, to be recognized in his circle: Well, it’s a huge boost to a person’s status, according to how things are these days, to be seen with influential people; because then we’re all considered to be politicians, or Whigs, or rebels, or high-flyers, or low-flyers, or social equalizers—and so on; you should know, we all gather in groups now.

Cha. So, a Fool for Entertainment is no longer in style, I see.

Marpl. Yes, unless it's a mocking Fool, and they're Loved everywhere; but please introduce me.

Cha. Alright, but only if you tell us the real story about how you got that sad-looking nose, I will.

Marpl. I'm on it.

Cha. Sir George, here's a gentleman who really wants to kiss your hand.

Sir Geo. I respect men of the sword, and I assume this gentleman has recently come from Spain or Portugal—based on his scars.

Marpl. No, really, Sir George, mine came from a fit of anger, happening last night in the Groom-Porters—I really wanted to bet ten guineas with a sort of, um, a Milk Sop, as I thought: He threw the dice and I ended up with empty pockets, as Charles 5 knows they sometimes can be, and he turned out to be a rude guy from the North and ended up hitting me for my lack of money.

Sir Geo. Ha! Ha! So you didn't draw?

Marpl. Look, Sir, I just put my hand on my sword to make a quick getaway, and he shouted. Now, I swear, Sir, if you touch your weapon, I'll draw mine and stick it right through you.

Sir Geo. Ha, ha, ha,

Cha. Ha, ha, ha, ha, "phase" was the word, so you walked away, I guess.

Marp. Yes, I avoid fighting just to be helpful to my friends, you know—

Sir Geo. Your friends really appreciate what you've done for them, and I hope you'll include me in that group.

Marpl. Sir George, a shout from the side box, or to be seen in your car, ties me to you forever.

Sir Geo. Trifles, you can have them whenever you want.

Cha. As long as he can command you—

Marpl. Me! I live for no other reason— Sir George, I have the honor of being admired by most of the popular figures in town, and I’ll tell them you are the best gentleman—

Sir Geo. No, no, please leave me to inform the Ladies about my roles—can you pass along a letter if needed, or deliver a message with a sense of importance? Ha!

Marpl. With the confidence of a page and the seriousness of a statesman.

Sir Geo. You know Miranda!

Marpl. What, my Sister Ward? Well, her Guardian is mine, we share the same struggles: Ah! he is a greedy, deceitful, self-righteous tightwad; that Sir Francis Gripe is a damn old—

Char. I guess, Friend, you forget that he is my Dad—

Marpl. I apologize, Charles, but I dislike him for your benefit. Honestly, I think the world is wrong about him; his outward piety makes him seem like everyone's executor, while his inner cunning makes him every heir's jailer. Seriously, Charles, I'm starting to believe you're just another ward he's managed to control, because you are as honest a debauchee as any man who has ever cheated a man of quality.

Sir Geo. A nice guy.

Cha. The Dog is entertaining sometimes, or else we wouldn't put up with his rudeness: He’s eager to be involved and ready to help, but some bad luck usually follows everything he does, and he often messes up a scheme rather than assists it—

Marpl. If I miss the mark, it’s not my fault; I'm following my instructions.

Cha. Yes, see the Merchant's Wife.

Marpl. Come on, that was just an accident.

Sir Geo. What was it, please?

Ch. Well, you should know that I had lent a certain merchant my hunting horses, planning to meet his wife while he was away. I sent him along with my groom to be polite and to deliver a letter to the lady at the same time. What does he do? He gives the husband the letter and offers her the horses.

Marpl. I remember you were with me when you denied the letter was yours and swore I was after her, which I paid for with my troubles.

Cha. Come on, Sir George, let’s take a walk if you’re not busy, because I sent my guy on an important errand and told him to bring me the answer in the park.

Marpl. Business, and I don't know it, wow I'll keep an eye on him.

Sir Geo. I have to ask for your forgiveness, Charles, I’m supposed to meet your father here.

Ch. Dad!

Sir Geo. Yeah! And it’s probably the strangest deal you've ever heard of; but I won't share until I know how it turns out.

Marpl. What could he possibly want with Sir Francis? I would give anything to find out; why shouldn’t we know what everyone is up to?

Cha. Whatever prosperity brings, I have my own matters to deal with; let's compare notes over a drink.

7 Marpl. Charles knows I enjoy a drink just like anyone else, I'll make one; should it be tonight? Ad I'm eager to learn their secrets.

Whis. Sir, sir, Miss Patch says that Isabinda's Spanish father has completely ruined the plan, and she can't meet you in the park. However, he will definitely go out this afternoon, she says; but I need to check back to find out the time.

Marpl. What did Whisper say now? I'm going to go crazy if I’m not let in on this secret.

Cha. Cursed Misfortune, come with me, my heart feels joy at her name. Sir George, it's yours; we'll meet at the usual spot at the usual time.

Sir Geo. Agreed; I think I see Sir Francis over there.

Cha. Marplot, you have to forgive me, I'm busy.

Marpl. I'm determined—I'll bet my life I’ll find out what your commitment is.

Miran. (Getting up from a chair.) Let the chair wait: My servant, that dog Sir George, said he was in the park.

Ha! Miss Patch alone, didn't you tell me you figured out a way to bring Isabinda to the Park?

Patch. Oh, Madam, you can’t imagine what a terrible disappointment we’ve faced: just as I had grabbed a set of my clothes for a disguise, my old master walked into his closet, which is right across from her chamber door; this completely freaked us out. Eventually, I put on a serious face and asked him if he had time for his chocolate, hoping to lure him out of his hiding spot; but he snapped at me, saying, “No, I’ll be busy here for two hours.” When my poor mistress saw there was no way to escape, she told me to go to you with the sad news.

Miran. Unhappy Isabinda! Was anything ever so puzzling as the mood of Sir Jealousie Traffick?

8 Patch. Oh, Madam, it's because he’s spent so long in Spain that he insists he’ll spend half of his fortune to become a Member of Parliament, just to pass a law that women should wear veils and adopt those other annoying Spanish customs— He swears it's absolutely outrageous to let a woman be seen without a veil, even at church, and he can hardly believe there’s a genuinely born child in the city.

Miran. Ha, ha, ha, how the old fool tortures himself! If he thinks he can enforce his strict rules, does he really believe we can't outsmart them? No, no; let the tyrant man create whatever laws he wants, if there's a woman in charge, I bet she'll find a way to break them. Is he still fixated on the Spaniard for his son-in-law?

Patch. Yes, he's expecting him on the next ship, which is driving his daughter into sadness and despair. But, Madam, I see you’re still keeping the same cheerful and lively spirit you had when I was at your service. My lady is in a great mood as well, and I’ve figured out how to make Sir Jealousie think I'm entirely focused on him, while my real goal is to help her; he makes me her jailer, and I set her free.

Miran. I know your creative mind would be incredibly helpful to her, or I wouldn't have given you to her father.

Patch. But, ma'am, the word is that you're going to marry your guardian.

Miran. It’s important that this Report be made, Patch.

Patch. But is it real, Madam?

Miran. That's not really必要.

Patch. I thought it was just the old Strain, still trying to persuade him for your benefit and complaining about all the young guys around town; right now, it seems to me you’re just as burdened by your Guardian, Madam, as my Lady is by her Father.

Miran. No, I have Liberty, Wench, that she wants; what would she give now to be in this dissabilee in the—open Air, nay more, in pursuit of the young Fellow she likes; for that's my Case, I assure thee.

Patch. Well, Madam, she's on the same page as you; because even though she can't go out, we have a way to get him home despite old Argus. 9 C

Miran. Now Patch, what do you think of my choice, because here he comes— Ha! my guardian is with him; what's going on? I'm sure Sir Francis doesn't recognize me in this outfit— Let's watch them.

Sir Fran. Honestly, Sir George, you're going to regret wasting your money like that, because I’m telling you straight, Miranda, my charge doesn’t love young guys; they're all trouble and rarely make good husbands. In all seriousness, she can't stand them.

Miran. (Peeking.) In serious sadness, you're mistaken—what could this mean?

Sir Geo. Listen, Sir Francis, whether she can or can't stand young guys isn't the point; will you accept the fifty guineas?

Sir Fran. Honestly—I won’t allow it, because I knew your father. He was a strong, cautious man, and I can’t agree to let his son waste away what he saved for no reason.

Mirand. (Spying.) Now, what in the world is he trying to negotiate with me for fifty guineas?

Patch. I wish it wasn't for the first night's stay, ma'am.

Sir Geo. Well, Sir Francis, since you care so much for my father, then please allow me this favor, free of charge.

Miran. (Peeking.) The Favor! Oh my gosh! I think it's just like you said, Patch.

Sir Fran. No, honestly, if you don’t invest in your experiences, you’ll never be wise; so give me a hundred and take a chance on luck.

Sir Geo. The doubts came up, I see, from the small amount— Let me think—a hundred guineas— (Takes them out of a purse and jingles them.) Ha! they have a lovely sound and a nice appearance— But then, Miranda— What if she turns out to be cruel—

Miran. (Snooping.) As Ten to One I will—

10 Sir Fran. Yeah, think about it, Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Sir Geo. No, I'll do it.

Patch. Don’t, whether you want to or not, Ma’am?

Sir Geo. Get to the point, here's the money, let's go over the terms—

Sir Fran. (Pulling out a Paper.)

Miran. (Spying.) Oh, for Heaven's sake, please do, because I'm so anxious.

Sir Fran, that's your choice.

Sir Geo. Yep, go ahead.

Sir Fran. Imprimis, you are allowed to come into my house to discuss your case with Miranda for a period of ten minutes, without interruption, as long as I stay in the same room.

Sir Geo. But out of earshot—

Sir Fran. Well, well, I don't really want to hear what you have to say, Ha, ha, ha, since I’m getting that purse and a hundred guineas.

Sir Geo. Take it—

Miran. (Sneaking a look.) So, it’s good it's not worse, I'll make it work for both of you—

Sir Geo. And this agreement is to be fulfilled today.

Sir Fran. Yes, definitely, the sooner the better. Poor guy, how Miranda and I are going to laugh at him— Well, Sir George, Ha, ha, ha, enjoy the last of your Guineas, Ha, ha, ha.

Miran. (Peeking.) He definitely doesn't know I'm Miranda.

Sir Geo. I've truly made a very unusual deal if she really is in love with this old Cuff now— Psha, that's completely impossible—but then what chance do I have to succeed? I’ve never even talked to her—

Miran. (Spying.) Is that what you’re saying? Then I’m safe.

Sir Geo. Even if my tongue never spoke, my eyes said a thousand things, and my hopes convinced me that hers would respond to them. If I'm lucky—if not, it’s just a hundred guineas wasted.

Miran. On what, Sir George?

Sir Geo. Ha! my Incognito—about a Woman, Madam.

Miran. They are the worst things you can get involved with, and they deteriorate the fastest; your very breath ruins them, and I’m afraid you’ll never come back, Sir George, Ha, ha!

Sir Geo. Were they more fragile than China, and broke into pieces with a touch, every part of her I’ve tried to grasp, if she is just in control of your intellect, she’s worth ten times more—please let me see your face.

Miran. That definitely shouldn't change your opinion of my understanding—

Sure, Mr. Geo. Confirm it, ma'am.

Patch. So, steal the Lady's charm, Sir.

Sir Geo. No Child, having chocolate for breakfast never ruins my lunch; the other lady, I plan a full meal; so there's no risk—

Miran. Marriage! Ha, ha, ha; what wrongs have you done to the God of Love that he would punish you so harshly by branding you with the title of Husband—

Sir Geo. For my foolishness in meeting you here so many times without following the Laws of Nature and honoring her rules— But I’ve decided that before we part now, I need to know who you are, where you live, and what your true appearance is; so please take off your mask and spare me the effort of doing it for you.

Miran. My face shares the same flesh and blood as my hand, Sir George, and if you provoke me, that would be quite rude.

Sir Geo. You’ll put it on my cheek—The ladies' favors are always welcome; but I need that cloud removed. (Holding her hand.) Remember, you’re in the Park, dear, and how awful it would be to lose this lovely white hand.

Miran. And how would it sound in a Chocolate-House that Sir George Airy rudely took off a lady's mask after he had promised her that he would never try to know her, directly or indirectly, until she gave him permission?

Patch. I wish we were safe outside.

Sir Geo. But if that lady thinks it's okay to chase and confront me at every turn like a troubled ghost, can I really be blamed if I want to understand the truth? I wouldn't want anything to be unresolved with a woman. 12

Miran. What should I do?

Sir Geo. Yeah, please think about it, because you’ll see that I’m here to help you a lot.

Patch. Imagine, Sir, if the Lady were in love with you.

Sir Geo. Oh! I'll take care of that obligation in a moment.

Patch. And marry her?

Sir Geo. Ha, ha, ha, that’s not how to love her child.

Miran. If he finds me, I'm done for— Which way can I get away?— Let me think.

Sir Geo. Well, ma'am—

Miran. I have it— Sir George, you should really allow for something; if you don’t mind my face and turn your back (if you look at me I’ll just sink, even with this mask on), I’ll confess why I’ve involved you so often, who I am, and where I live.

Sir Geo. Well, to prove that I'm a man of honor, I accept the conditions. Just let me know what they are, and it won't be long before I figure out the face.

Fool. What do you mean, Madam?

Miran. To leave.

Sir Geo. It's a bit rude to turn your back on a lady, but you’re in charge, so I’ll do as you say. (Turns away.) Go ahead, Madam, start—

Miran. It was my unfortunate fate to see you at Paris (pauses for a moment and speaks) at a birthday ball; your shape and presence captivated me, your wit and charm touched my heart, and from that fateful night, I fell for you. (Pulls back.) And when you left, I was overwhelmed with grief—my heart found no peace, and my eyes couldn’t find sleep.

13 Sir Geo. Excellent— I hope she's attractive— Well, now, Madam, about those other two things: Your name and where you live?— I’m a gentleman, and this confession won’t go unnoticed by me.— Please don’t cry, but continue— I find my heart softening for you— speak quickly, or I’ll turn away— Not yet.— Poor lady, she expects me to comfort her; and to be fair, she has said enough to encourage me. (Turns around.) Huh? Gone! The devil, jilted? What a story she’s come up with—about Paris, parties, and birthdays.— I swear I’d pay ten guineas to know who this girl is.— Cursed be my foolishness— I deserve to lose her; what woman can forgive a man who turns his back?

Sir Fran.
HA, haha, haha, haha, haha, haha.

Miran. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha; Oh, I'm going to die laughing.— The most romantic adventure: Ha, ha! What does that annoying young guy mean? A hundred bucks just to talk to me for an hour; Ho, ha.

Sir Fran. And I’m supposed to be there too; that’s the joke; Honestly, if it had been private, I wouldn’t have wanted to trust that young guy.

Mirand. Absolutely, but honestly, you might Gardy.— Now I think there’s no one more attractive than you; So tidy, so clean, so cheerful, and so affectionate.—

Sir Fran. Pritty Rogue, Pritty Rogue, and that’s where you’ll find me. If you prefer your Gardy over these modern show-offs, you’ll outshine the Queen’s box on an Opera night; you’ll be the envy of the crowd (because I’ll take you to Hide-Park) and your ride will be more impressive than—what do you call them?—Ambassadors.

Miran. No, I'm sure the private side of my sexuality will be more jealous of the inner qualities when you’re in it, rather than my outer appearance.

Sir Fran. A Cunning Bagage, you are a clever one, and a wise one too; to prove that you haven't made a wrong choice, I'm going to disinherit my son right now and leave my entire estate to you.

Miran. There's an old rogue now: (Aside.) No, Gardy, I wouldn’t want your name to be so tarnished in the world—You know my father’s wishes state that I can’t inherit my estate without your consent until I’m twenty-five; you just need to cut off the extra seven years and make me the owner of my estate today, and I’ll make you the master of my heart tomorrow.

15 Sir Fran. Hmm? That might not be safe— No Chargy, I'll put it in your name for Pin-mony; and that will work just as well, you know.

Miran. Unreasonable old jerk, trying to bribe me with my own money— How can I escape his grip?

Sir Fran. So, what are you thinking about, my girl? How to tease Sir George?

Miran. I can't pretend to joke around: He knows me too well. (Offline.) No, Gardy, I've come up with a way that will confuse him more than anything I could say, even if I talked to him for seven years.

Sir Fran. How's that? Oh! I'm on cloud nine, I'm thrilled, I'm going crazy—

Miran. It would drive you crazy if you knew everything, (Aside.) I won’t say a word to him, but I’ll stay silent to everything he says—

Sir Fran. Dumb, good; Ha, ha, ha. Excellent, ha, ha, I think I’ve got you now, Sir George: Dumb! He’s going to go crazy— Well, she’s the wittiest trickster— Ha, ha, Dumb! I can’t help but laugh, ha, ha, to think about how incredibly mad he’ll be when he realizes he just gave his money away for a silent act. Ha, ha, ha.

Miran. No way, Gardy, if he only knew what I really think of him, it would drive him ten times crazier: Ha, ha, ha.

Sir Fran. Yeah, it would be Chargy, to mock him like that, to refuse to answer him, to be silent: Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Sir Fran. Hey, you! Who let you in?

Char. My Need, Sir.

Sir Fran. Sir, your demands are quite unreasonable and should have been sent before they arrived.

Char. Sir, I knew it was a word that wouldn't get accepted anywhere.

Sir Fran. So, buddy, how dared you rudely throw that at your father when no one else would accept it?

16 Char. Surely, the name of a son is a good enough excuse. I apologize to this lady if I have overstepped.

Sir Fran. Yes, yes, ask her for forgiveness and her blessing as well, if you want anything from me.

Miran. I think yours, Sir Francis, in a Guinea purse would be more important. Your son might need to talk to you, so I'll step away.

Sir Fran. I think I know what he’s up to, but I’ll take care of it. I expect the Knight any moment now. You should be ready.

Miran. Definitely! My expectations are higher than yours, old man.

Sir Fran. Well, Sir!

Char. No, that's really not good, Sir; my situation is, I'm sure.

Sir Fran. And what does that have to do with me, Sir? Your management should have improved them.

Char. If you’d like to trust me with managing my estate, I’ll do my best, sir.

Sir Fran. What should I put on a card, and purchase a lady's favor for a thousand coins, to dress up a ride for a girl, or through your negligence make your steward rich enough to run for sheriff, or even to stand for parliament?

Char. I hope I won't spend it like this: However, I'm only asking for what my uncle left me; you can do whatever you want with yours, sir.

Sir Fran. I promise you, I'll keep that out of your reach. These young guys really think that older men acquire wealth just so they can waste it on gambling, chasing after women, drinking, dressing up, and all that.

Char. I believe I was born a gentleman, sir; I'm certain my uncle raised me like one.

Sir Fran. So, you would suggest, Sir, that gambling, partying, and disease are essentials for a gentleman.

Char. This is outrageous! When I just want to ask him for some support, he unleashes these rude accusations. I have to, even though I don’t want to, come up with a plan and use some clever tricks to help myself.

17 D Sir Fran. Hey, what are you mumbling about? Hey? (Holds up his cane.) I'm telling you, you won't get a single penny from me until I decide—and I might never decide, and what’s that to you?

Char. No, getting robbed, or having your throat cut isn’t much—

Sir Fran. What's that, you? Are you trying to rob me or cut my throat, you scoundrel?

Char. God forbid, Sir,— I didn't say anything like that.

Sir Fran. Mercy! What a nightmare it is to have a 21-year-old son who wants to push me out of my life to take over the estate.

Marpl. Oh no, he's here—I was worried I had lost him: His secret couldn't be with his father; his needs are well known—Guardian, your servant Charles, I can tell by that sad look on your face. The old man's grip is as tight as his safe—but I'll help you—

Sir Fran. So: Here's another flashy show-off, who will waste his fortune before he even gets it; but he'll pay a hefty price for it, and let the fool do what he wants— Well, what does necessity bring you here for, sir?

Marpl. You got it, Guardian— I want a hundred bucks.

Sir Fran. For what?

Marpl. Ugh, for a hundred reasons, I can't for the life of me tell you why.

Char. Sir, I guess I’ve gotten all the answers I’m going to get.

Marpl. Oh, the Devil, if he gets out before me, I’ll lose him again.

Sir Fran. Yes, Sir, and you can start marching whenever you want—I need to see a change in your attitude before I change mine.

Marpl. Please, sir, hurry up; I really need the money.

18 Sir Fran. Fool, take this and go to the Cashier; I won't be stuck dealing with you for much longer.

Marpl. Damn the Cashier, I’ll definitely have Charles gone by the time I get back again.

Char. Well, Sir, I'm taking my leave— But remember, you expose your only son to all the struggles of being really poor, which often creates opportunities for trouble.

Sir Fran. Wait, Charles, I just had a sudden idea that might benefit you.

Ha, does he give in?

Sir Fran. My Lady Wrinkle, valued at forty thousand pounds, is looking for a handsome young husband; she praised you the other day; although the matchmakers charge twenty guineas for a glimpse of her, I can introduce you for free.

Char. My Lady Wrinkle, Sir, why does she only have one eye?

Sir Fran. Then she’ll only see part of your extravagance, Sir.

Char. Condemn me to such a hideous creature! Toothless, dirty, with a twisted neck and a hunchbacked old witch.

Sir Fran. Hunch-back'd! That's actually good, then she gets a break from her troubles; because you will weigh her down heavily. Now I bet you think this isn't a father's offer; forty thousand pounds is nothing to you.

Char. Yes, Sir, I think that’s too much; a young, beautiful woman with half the money would be more pleasing. Thank you, Sir; but it seems you made a better choice for yourself.

Sir Fran. Get out of my house, you dog; you act like you can interfere with my marriage, you scoundrel.

Char. Sir, I comply: But—

Sir Fran. Don’t give me any excuses—get out, Sir: How dare you ask me for money again—refuse forty thousand pounds! Out of my house, I say, without a word.

Serv. One Sir George Airy is asking for you, Sir.

19 D2

Marpl.. Huh? Is Charles gone, Guardian?

Sir Fran. Yes; and I ask you, wise Sir, to follow him.

Marpl. No way, I swear I’m going to run. I’m serious about that. Ugh, curse the cashier for holding me up for so long. Where the heck am I supposed to find him now? I’m definitely going to lose this secret.

Sir Fran. What’s wrong with the guy?— I want Sir George to walk up— Now for a test of skill that will make me happy, and him look foolish: Ha, ha, ha, in my opinion, he already looks like a fool.

Sir Fran. So, Sir George, do you think the same way? Or would you give in? Ha, ha, ha: Look, here are the guineas, (clinks them.) Ha, ha, ha.

Sir Geo. Not even if they offered double the amount, Sir Francis: So please be quick, bring in the lady, and take your position—if she's a woman and not under some kind of spell from this old trickster, I’ll make him suffer; because if she has even the slightest bit of interest in him, I’ll change into a thousand different forms to uncover it.

Sir Fran. Agreed—Miranda. There Sir George, take your chance, (Looks at his watch.)

Sir Geo.

Sir Fran. Hold on, Sir, kissing wasn't part of our agreement.

Sir Geo. Oh! That's like a prologue:— Come on, Old Mammon, get to your post.

Sir Fran. Well, young Timon, it's exactly 4 o'clock; remember, one hour is your absolute limit, not a minute more.

Sir Geo. Madam, whether you choose to forgive or criticize my affection, the reason behind this impulsive action rests in your hands, as does the fate of your admirer; your 20 sparkling eyes reveal a heart open to love; your liveliness shows a spirit too refined to embrace the flaws of mortal decay.

Miran. (Aside.) Oh, if only I could speak—

Sir Geo. Break free from this Tyrant Guardian's control, take charge of yourself, and crush his ambitious hopes. The driving force behind his desires is Greed; he is unfaithful in love and should be exiled by the Queen of Beauty. Look, Madam, a loyal servant is kneeling and asking to be counted among your followers.

Sir Fran. I wish I could hear what he’s saying now. (Running up.) Wait, wait, wait, no cheating, that goes against the rules—

Sir Geo. Death, seriously, keep your distance, or I'll write another article about you in your guts.

Sir Fran. (Going back.) A stubborn guy!—

Sir Geo. Not responding to me! Maybe she thinks my speech is too serious. I’ll be more casual— Can you really be so unreasonable, Madam, to let me say all these nice things to you without a single compliment back? Look at me closely, am I not a handsome guy, huh? Can you really prefer that old, dry, withered stick of sixty-five to the energetic, lively love of twenty-four? He’ll only wake you with his snoring, but I would make your senses dance with ecstasy during our joyful moments—huh? Still nothing? Surely she must be speechless— This is how I would steal a touch of your beautiful hand, (Takes hold of her hand) until gradually I reach your soft breasts, then steal kisses like this,

Miran. (Struggles and pushes him away.) Oh my gosh! I can't hold myself back.

Sir Fran. (Running up with his watch in hand.) I'm sure she didn't talk to him— There's three quarters of the hour gone, Sir George— Honestly, I don't like those private meetings—

Sir Geo. More Interruptions— You’re going to have it, Sir.

21 Sir Fran. Returning. No, no, you can't have her either.

Sir Geo. Dumb still—I'm sure this old dog has made her stay quiet; I'll try another approach— I have to assume, Madam, that to please your guardian, you’re refusing to respond to me— Think about the unfairness of his demand. This single hour has cost me a hundred pounds—and if you would answer me, I could buy the whole 24 like that. However, Madam, you must allow me to interpret your silence in the best way I can for my money, and take it as a sign that you secretly like me: Therefore, Madam, I will show you how to keep your promise to Sir Francis while still answering all my questions: For example, when I ask something you want to say yes to, just nod your head gently like this; and when it’s a no, shake your head like this; (Shakes his head.) and if you're unsure, just give a soft sigh like this.

Miran. I’m captivated by every action—but I’ll prepare him for signs, I guarantee it.

Sir Fran. Ha, ha, ha, ha, poor Sir George, Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Sir Geo. Did he want you to be silent, Madam, to everything I have to say?

Miran. (Nods.)

Sir Geo. Very well! I see you're reasonable— Is it possible that you actually love him? Incredible! (Miran. Nods.) Sorry for being so direct with my questions, but my time is limited; can I hope to take his place in your heart? (Miran. *Sighs.*) Great! You're responding just how I’d hoped— So, you won’t agree to marry him then? (Miran. Sighs.) What? You’re unsure? Back to square one— Hmm, maybe it’s because he can keep you from your inheritance until you turn twenty-five; I'll test that— Come on, Madam, I can't believe you're hesitating in this matter for any reason other than your fortune— Let him hold onto it for those few years; make me happy with your love, and let him keep your money— (Miran. raises her hands.) Well, 22 what does that mean? No, no, Madam, unless you follow my cue, I can’t figure out what you mean—

Sir Fran. What a mess! Are they communicating with gestures? Am I really being fooled here? What do you mean, Sir George?

Sir Geo. I'll cut your throat if you dare mutter another word.

Sir Fran. Od! I wish he would just leave my house already.

Sir Geo. Please, Madam, will you answer me directly? (Miran. shakes her head and points at Sir Francis.) What! Does she mean she won't answer me directly, or is she worried that old Cuff will understand her signals?—Yes, it must be that. I can see, Madam, you are too concerned about the promise you made to follow my rules; so I will guess your thoughts and answer for you—First, for myself, Madam, it is an undeniable truth that I am in love with you. Now for you: (Turns onto her side.) Really, Sir, can I believe it?—As certainly, Madam, as it is daylight, or that I will die if you keep silent—Bless me with the sound of your voice and lift my spirits to their rightful place: I humbly ask, before I’m forced to leave this place, grant me some sign of a positive reception to keep my hopes alive. (Jumps up quickly, turns onto her side.) Stand up, Sir, and since my guardian's presence won’t allow me to speak freely, read this and be assured that you are not indifferent to me. (Gives her a letter.) Ha! Just like a woman! But no— (She takes it down.) Never mind, I will continue.

Sir Fran. Ha! What's that, a letter? Ha, ha, ha, you're out of luck.

Miran. The best assurance I've ever seen—

Sir Geo. Huh? A letter! Oh! let me kiss it with the same excitement as I would the dear hand that touched it. (Opens it.) Now for a quick idea and a long Extempore— What's this? (Reads.) "Dear Sir George, this Virgin Muse I dedicate to you, which once it has the addition of your voice, will enchant me into a desire for the freedom to love, a desire only you can satisfy." My angel! Oh, you move me! (Kisses the letter.) And look at the power of your command; the God of Love has already set the verse; the flowing lines dance to a tune, and I'm inspired with a voice to sing it.

Miran. I'm sure you are bold enough.

Sir Geo. (Sings.)

Sir Geo. (Grabbing Miranda.) I'm completely on board, let's step away for a moment. (Sir Francis rushes in.)

Sir Fran. The time is up, Sir, and you need to leave. Here, my girl, here's the hundred pounds you've won, now go, I'll join you soon, ha, ha, ha, ha.

Sir Geo. Ads Heart, ma'am, you won't leave me hanging like this, will you?

Sir Fran. Ha, ha, ha, she’s got you, Sir George, I think. Ha, ha, ha: Do you have any more hundred pounds to waste on courtship? Ha, ha, ha.

Sir Geo. Ha, ha, ha, your mocking jokes are a curse— Still, no matter how poorly I did, I’ll take the same bet, she doesn’t care about you at all— What’s more, even though you told her to be quiet around me, you’ll never get her to talk to you directly.

Sir Fran. Ha, ha, ha, didn’t I tell you that you would regret your money? Didn’t I say she hated young guys? Ha, ha, ha.

Sir Geo. And I'm sure she's not in love with Age.

Sir Fran. Ha, ha, that doesn't matter, ha, ha, she’s not interested in your youth or your rhetoric, ha, ha.

Sir Geo. Whatever her reasons are for not liking me, I'm sure she won't be swayed by anything about you.

24 Sir Fran. Ha, ha, ha; look at how he puffs up with envy!— Poor guy, poor guy— Ha, ha; I must apologize, Sir George, Miranda will be eager to join in the fun: Honestly, we're going to laugh at you so much; Ha, ha, ha.

Sir Geo. Honestly, I’ll have my laugh too— Because if you go through with marrying her old Belzebub, you’re going to get cheated on big time; Remember that, and be scared—

Sir Fran. Haha, he’s wild.

Sir Jeal. What are you doing in the balcony again, despite my clear orders not to!— Why don’t you just write a sign on your forehead to let people know there’s something for rent—

Isab. What’s the harm in some fresh air, Sir?

Sir Jeal. Is your constitution so heated, Mistress, that it needs cooling, huh? Follow the Virtuous Spanish Rules, rid yourself of your cravings and thoughts of flesh, live on roots, and satisfy your thirst with water.

Isab. That, and a small room, would definitely make me lose it.

25 E Sir Jeal. No, Mistress, it’s your well-fed, lively, wandering, rampant ladies that are troubled with the vapors; it’s your Ratafia, Persico, Cinnamon, Citron, and Clary sage that cause such dizziness in the brain, sending many a guinea straight to the doctor. But you shouldn’t be raised this way; no gallivanting around, no accepting visits at home; because in our loose country, women are just as dangerous as men.

Patch. So I told her, Sir; and that it wasn't proper to be seen on a balcony— But she threatened to slap my face, and told me I was her servant, not her governess.

Sir Jeal. Did she really? But I'll make sure she knows that you are her Duenna: Oh, that unique tradition of Spain! Here, you can't rely on older women in my country—because they're as flirtatious at eighty as a girl of eighteen; and a man might as well trust Asgill's translation as to his great-grandmother not marrying again.

Isab. Or to the Spanish Ladies' veils and Duenna's for protecting their honor.

Sir Jeal. If you dare to mock the careful actions of that wise nation, I’ll have you locked up for two weeks, with no way to see out.

Isab. If we had the same spiritual support here in England that they have in Spain, I might be able to trick you if you were to— Sir, it’s not the restrictions but our inherent qualities that uphold the reputation and honor of our gender. Let me tell you, Sir, confinement sharpens creativity, just like a lack of sight enhances the other senses, and often does more harm than the innocent freedom that recreation provides.

Sir Jeal. Is that so, Mistress? Who on earth taught you how to reason? I swear, anyone who can believe that a woman seeking freedom is innocent must have a lot more faith than I do. So, Patch, I’m leaving her in your hands; lock her up until I return from Change. I’m going to have some foolish guy, wearing nothing but a red coat and a feather, think that by jumping into her arms, he can jump into my fortune—But I’ll stop them. She’ll only belong to Signeur Babinetto.

26 Patch. Honestly, Sir, I wish you would hire someone else for this job; I feel like I'm living like a dog just following your orders. Come on, Madam, will you please let yourself be locked up?

Isab. Yes, to enjoy more freedom than he realizes. (Brief remark.)

Sir Jeal. I believe this girl is very loyal to my interests: I'm glad I ran into her. If I can just keep my daughter from being influenced until Signeur Babinetto arrives, he’ll marry her as soon as he gets here and take her to Spain right after. She's really sharp, and I wouldn't want her to be an English wife any more than the Grand Signior's mistress.

Whisp. So, I see Mr. Jealous leave; where can I find Mrs. Patch now?

Patch. Oh Mr. Whisper, my lady saw you at the window and told me to tell you to hurry and let your master know she's alone now.

Whisp. Hush, speak softly; I’m leaving now. But listen, Mrs. Patch, shouldn’t you and I have a little chat while my master and your lady are busy?

Patch. Yes, yes, goodbye.

Sir Jeal. I was just talking with Mr. Tradewell when I heard my door slam. (Seeing Whisper.) Hey! A man hanging around my house; what do you want here, sir?

Whisp. Want—want, damn it, Sir Jealous! what should I say now?—

Sir Jeal. Yes, do you have a letter or message for anyone there?—Oh my goodness, this must be some kind of man-whore—

Whisp. Message, Sir!

Sir Jeal. Yes, letter or message, sir.

Whisp. No, not me, Sir.

Sir Jeal. Hey you, I'll have you put in stocks if you don't tell me what you want right now.

Whisp. No, Sir, my concern—it's not a big deal, but it is still something important.

Sir Jeal, don't mess with me.

Whisp. Excuse me, Sir, have you seen him, Sir?

Sir Jeal. Found what, you scamp.

Whisp. Why, Trifle is the exact lapdog my lady lost, sir; I thought I saw him run into this house. I'm so glad you have him—sir, my lady will be thrilled that I’ve found him.

Sir Jeal. Who's your lady friend?

Whisp. My dear love, Sir.

Sir Jeal. My Lady Love-puppy! Then please go to her, because I know of no other pup that belongs to her; and don’t let me catch you hunting around my door again, or I’ll have to put you to work, you rascal.

Whisp. No way, Sir— Your humble servant; I need to see if he leaves or not before I can update my Master.

Sir Jeal. This guy has the overly eager look of a sleazy dealer; and I have a feeling there’s a plan here, but I'll catch them off guard before they even realize it, I guarantee it.

Char. Honest Marplot, I appreciate this support; I’m expecting my lawyer with a thousand pounds I’ve asked him to arrange, and then you’ll be paid back.

Marpl. Ugh, enough of that: Here comes Sir George Airy—

Cursedly out of humor at his disappointment; look at his face! Ha, ha, ha.

28 Sir Geo. Ah, Charles, I’m so humbled in my ambitions to pursue women, that I don’t think I’ll ever have the courage to try for a chambermaid again—I’ll tell you.

Char. Ha, ha; I'll save you the story by saying— Eager to find out what you needed from my dad, when I saw you come in, I slipped into the next room, where I overheard every word.

Sir Geo. I said that— But I'll be damned if you heard her reply—. But please tell me, Charles, is she an idiot?

Char. I never suspected her for that; but Marplot can tell you more if you let him be the judge.

Marpl. A fool! I can assure you she has more wit than all the other women put together; she'll tease me until I have nothing to say for myself.

Char. A really strong proof of her intelligence—

Marpl. There has to be some trick to this, Sir George; I swear I’ll figure it out even if it costs me what you paid for it.

Sir Geo. Do and Command me—

Marpl. That’s enough, just leave me to figure out the secret on my own.

The Devil! Whisper here again, that guy never speaks up; is this the same thing, or is it a new secret? Sir George, aren't you going to ask Charles what news Whisper has?

Sir Geo. Not me, Sir; I guess it doesn't have anything to do with me.

Marpl. Lord, Lord, how little curiosity some people have! My main joy comes from knowing everyone's business.

Sir Geo. I think, Charles, you have something to take care of: I have a little errand as well. Marplot, if you happen to have any news from Miranda, you’ll find me at the Thatch'd House at six—

You honor me greatly.

Char. You got it right, Sir George, wish me luck.

Sir Geo. Better than showed up. Adieu.

Char. Marplot, you have to forgive me.—

29 Marpl. No, no, there's no need for excuses among friends! I'll go with you.

Char. You definitely must not.

Marpl. No, I guess it’s a duel, and I’ll go to protect you.

Char. Come on, tell me why you refuse to fight.

Marpl. What’s the deal? I can get people to help separate you.

Char. Well, it's not a duel, so there's no danger. So please, hear me out.

Marpl. What is it, a Mistress then?— Shh— You know I can keep quiet when I need to.

Char. I wish you could be polite too: I’m telling you, you will not be coming with me. Goodbye.

Marpl. Well then—I have to and I will follow you.

Char.
WELL, here's the house, which holds the lovely prize calm and peaceful; here no noisy servants crowd around to announce that beauty is inside; no formal visits make the lover wait; no rival to give my heart a jolt; who wouldn’t climb the window at midnight without worrying about the jealous father's gun, rather than be part of a flirt's entourage, where every minute he gets pushed out of place. (Knocks gently.) Mrs. Patch, Mrs. Patch.

Patch. Oh, are you here, Sir? Everything's fine.

Char. So, in then.

Marpl. There he goes: Who the heck lives here? Unless I can figure that out, I’m just as clueless about his business as ever; gosh, I’ll keep an eye out, it could be some sort of shady place, and he might get hurt; if anything happens, I swear he went in. Well, Charles, despite your effort to keep me out of the loop; I might save your life, for all I know: I’ll set up at that corner; there I’ll see whoever goes in or comes out. Gosh, I love uncovering secrets.

Isab. Patch, stay alert; be cautious of Dad.

Patch. I promise you.

Isab. Well, Sir, if I can judge your love by your courage, I should believe you are sincere; because you step into the lion's den when you come to see me.

Char. If you agree while the angry Beast is out, I'll protect you from his claws.

Isab. That would just be avoiding one danger by jumping into another; like the poor souls who jump from a burning ship and meet their end in the water. Come on, Charles, I fear that if I think this through, being confined with plenty is better than being free and starving. I know you’d make the fun enjoyable for a while with all sorts of sweet words and actions, but once we run out of our little resources and lack a thousand essentials for living, love, which rarely thrives in poverty, would let us down too.

Char. Honestly, I don't think so; my heart feels like it has enough saved up to last a lifetime. Plus, I've taken a thousand pounds against my uncle's estate, which should keep us going until one of our fathers softens up.

Isab. You can't trust that, my friend. I doubt your father will hold onto his mood until he dies, and mine won’t settle down until he sees me settled in Spain.

Char. So you can really decide to wait until that cursed Don arrives and allow that youth, beauty, passion, and intelligence to be sacrificed to the arms of a boring Spaniard, to be locked away and denied the sight of anything human? 31

Isab. No, when it comes to the end of things, and no trick can save us, you’ll sign up as a soldier, and I’ll carry your backpack for you.

Char. We’ve made up our minds; the world can’t be more cruel than our parents, and luck usually favors the brave; so let’s agree now: why should we risk it for a later chance? Who knows when we’ll get another opportunity?

Isab. Oh, I guess you have your rope ladder, and the closet window is exactly where it was; and if you haven't forgotten to write in code, Patch will figure out a way for our meetings. My father's strictness has taught me a lot about the Spanish methods, which I'm grateful for; even though I dislike the country, I respect how they handle these situations.

Patch. Oh, Madam, I see my boss coming up the street.

Char. Oh the Devil, I wish I had my ladder right now; I thought you weren't expecting him until tonight; why, why, why, why; what should I do, Madam?

Isab. Oh, for goodness' sake! Don't go that way; you'll run into him head-on. What a terrible moment!—

Char. Adsheart, can you lock me in a cupboard or stuff me into a chest, huh?

Patch. Impossible, Sir, he searches every nook and cranny in the house.

Isab. It's over forever! If he sees you, I will never see you again.

Patch. I've thought about it: Go to your room, Madam; and Sir, come with me, I'm sure you can easily get down from the balcony.

Char. My Life, Adieu— Lead the way, Guide.

Isab. God help him.

Sir Jeal. I don't know what's going on, but I have a strong feeling that something isn't right here; that guy loitering around my door and his story about a puppy seemed like a lie to me. By St. Jago, if I find a man in the house, I’d turn him into minced meat—

Marpl. Ah, poor Charles—huh? He’s getting old—I think I could push him around and make Charles think I’m brave.

Sir Jeal. My own key will let me in; I won't give them any warning.

Marpl. What did you say, Sir?

Sir Jeal. What’s that to you, sir?

Marpl. Yes, it's me, Sir; because the guy you’re threatening is a really upstanding man. Be careful, because if he doesn’t come out of your house as safely as he went in, I have half a dozen Mirmidons nearby who will make you pay for it.

Sir Jeal. Went in; what's he up to now? Ah! a scheme to take me down— I'll Mirmidon you, you dog— Thieves, Thieves.

Marpl. Murder, Murder; I wasn’t in your house, sir.

Serv. What's wrong, Sir?

Sir Jeal. What's going on, you rascals? Have you let someone into my house? I'll skin him alive! Follow me, I won't leave a single mousehole unsearched. If I find him, by St. Jago, I'll get him ready for the Opera.

Marpl. A leader of his group, you can't rely on age—what can I do to help Charles! Wow, I'll alert the neighborhood— Murder, Murder— (Charles jumps down onto him from the balcony.) Charles I’m really glad to see you made it out safe, with all my heart.

Char. A plague on your yelling: How the hell did you get here?

33 F Marpl. Well, look at that, I did you a solid; I told the old Thunderbolt that the guy who just went in was—

Char. Was it you that told him, Sir? (Grabbing him.) Damn it, I could crush you into a million pieces.

Marpl. Are you going to choke me for being kind? Will my curious soul never stop digging into other people's business until it’s squeezed out of me? I can't follow him right now; he’s so worked up. I’ll go to Miranda; if I can find out anything that might please Sir George, it could help me make amends with Charles again.

Sir Jeal. Are you sure you’ve looked everywhere?

Serv. Yes, from the top of the house to the bottom.

Sir Jeal. Under the beds, or on top of the beds?

Serv. Yes, and in them too, but I didn’t find any body, sir.

Sir Jeal. What could this jerk mean?

Patch. Don’t worry, ma’am, I saw him get out safely.

Isab. Oh no! What's up, sir?

Sir Jeal. You know better than anyone— So, where's the guy who was just here?

Isab. Which man, sir? I didn't see anyone!

Patch. Neither would I, based on the trust you place in me; do you really think I would let a man come through these doors while you were gone?

Sir Jeal. Ah Patch, she might be too clever for your honesty; the very scout he sent to give me a heads-up uncovered it to me—and even threatened me with half a dozen Mirmidons— But I think I gave that villain a good beating. These troubles you bring upon me, Mistress!

Isab. Excuse me, Sir, but your own foolish humor is what gets you into these annoying situations and gives every idiot a reason to make fun of you.

Sir Jeal. No, it's your careless behavior, your flirty antics in the balcony— Oh, how happy I will be to hand you over to the arms of Don Diego Babinetto!

34 Isab. And how hard do I have to work to stay away from him!

Sir Jeal. Definitely that scammer had a message from someone; but when I showed up, they pulled that trick on me. Come on, you drunks, let’s see if we can find that guy again. Patch, secure her, do you hear?

Patch. Yes, Sir—yeah, walk until your feet hurt, you won't find anyone, I promise you.

Isab. Who could that scout be that he's talking about?

Patch. No, I can't picture it, unless it was Whisper.

Isab. Well, dear Patch, let's use all our thoughts to figure out how to escape this awful Don Diego, my heart sinks at the sound of his terrible name.

Patch. Don't worry, ma'am, Don Carlo will be the guy, or I'll ruin my reputation for making things happen, and then what's the point of having a chambermaid?

Isab. Do you really mean that, my Girl: Then—

Miran. So, Gardee, how did I do in my Dumb Scene?

Sir Fran. To Admiration— You little rascal, let me kiss you for that: No, seriously, I will, Chargee, so I'll tease, and ruffle, and hug you; I will, I promise, I will.

Miran. No, Gardee, don’t be so extravagant; who would travel quickly when the journey lasts a lifetime?

Sir Fran. Ah, what a shame, what a shame— I'll kiss you again for that.

Miran. Yuck! he smells so much like tobacco! What a charming bedmate I would have!

Sir Fran. Oh, I can hardly contain my excitement! When, my dear, will you show the world our joyful day? When are we getting married, huh?

35 F2 Miran. All that's needed is your agreement, Sir Francis.

Sir Fran. My permission! What does my sweetheart mean?

Miran. No, it’s just a whim: But I want everything done properly— So when you sign an official document, prepared by a skilled lawyer, giving me your permission to marry, the next day makes me yours, Gardee.

Sir Fran. Ha, ha, ha, what a funny idea! Why is it not a clear signal that I give my consent when I marry you?

Miran. It's not about your reputation, Gardee; people are quick to say that you deceived me into marriage, which would undermine my choice. Now I want to make this decision myself, to show all the shallow guys how much I value a man who's experienced and wise.

Sir Fran. Humph! Please leave out the years, Chargee, I'm not as old as you think: Honestly, I'm young; there's a surprise for you.

Miran. Oh, don't apologize for it; I actually like you more because you're older. But I'll start to think you don't love me if you refuse me this formality.

Sir Fran. Not love you, Chargee! I truly do love you more than, than, than, better than—what should I say? Honestly, better than money, I really do—

Miran. That’s not true, I know it. (Aside.) So, do this to prove it.

Sir Fran. Well, I'll do it, Chargee, as long as I get a License at the same time.

Miran. Oh, and a pastor too, if you don't mind; Ha, ha, ha, I can't stop laughing at the thought of how all the young fools around town will be embarrassed when they hear about our marriage.

Sir Fran. Yeah, they will, yeah, they will; Ha, ha, ha.

Miran. Well, I think I’m going to be so happy with my Gardee!

Sir Fran. If wearing pearls and jewels, or eating gold, as the old saying goes, can make you happy, then you will be, my sweetest, my lovely, my charming, my—honestly, I don’t even know what to call you.

Miran. You should know, Gardee, that I'm really eager to wrap up this business, so I've hired my woman's brother, who is a lawyer in the Temple, to sort everything out just the way you want it. You need to give your approval for my marriage, which involves you, as you know. But keep that under wraps. So, I will, with your permission, hand over my documents to him; then tomorrow, we’ll unexpectedly have a wedding that nobody anticipated, which will allow you to take both me and my estate, and I guess you'll end up making a big deal out of your own actions. 36

Sir Fran. Nay, but Chargee, if—

Miran. No, Gardee, no Ifs— Have I turned down three Northern Lords, two British Peers, and a bunch more than ten Knights, to have you add your Ifs?—

Sir Fran. So you really have, and I’ll trust your management. Oh, I’m on fire.

Miran. It's amazing that the dry stubble doesn't catch fire.

Sir Fran. Hey! Who called for you, Sir? Has the Hundred Pound vanished already?

Marpl. No, Sir, I don't want any money right now.

Sir Fran. No, that's a miracle! But there's one thing you want, I'm sure.

Marpl. Yeah, what's that, Guardian?

Sir Fran. Manners, why did I have no servants at all?

Marpl. None that could help me out, Guardian, which is currently with this lady.

Miran. Please, Mr. Marplot! What is it that you want?

Sir Fran. Yeah, Sir, what’s up? Anything related to her can be given to me.

Marpl. I disagree with that.

Miran. That's more than I do, sir.

Marpl. Indeed, Madam, so let's continue: Word has it that you and my very principled Guardian here planned, schemed, and agreed to trick a very decent, respectable, honest gentleman out of a hundred pounds.

Miran. I planned it!

Marpl. Hey you— You didn't say a word against it, so you're guilty.

Sir Fran. Please let that polite, honorable, honest gentleman know that if he has any more money to waste, it will be accepted just like the last time; ha, ha, ha, ha, fooled, right! But listen, make sure he knows that if he even thinks about saying I tricked him out of it, I’ll recommend a lawyer to him who will outsmart him for twice as much; you got that? Tell him that. 37

Marpl. So, this is how you treat a gentleman and my friend.

Miran. Is the Wretch your Friend?

Marpl. The wretch! Look, Madam, don’t use names; honestly, I won’t stand for it.

Miran. You're not going to beat me, are you? Ha, ha.

Marpl. I’m not sure if I will or not.

Sir Fran. Sir, I'll have a servant show you out the window if you're being rude.

Marpl. I’m your most humble servant, Guardian; I plan to leave the same way I came in. I would just like to ask this lady if she truly believes in her heart that Sir George Airy isn’t a fine gentleman.

Miram. He has great style.

Sir Fran. This is mainly due to his tailor and valet.

Miran. And if you accept that as proof of him being a good gentleman, then he is.

Marpl. The sensible people of the world recognize his cleverness, bravery, charm, and skill; although I believe he lost that reputation when he wasted a hundred pounds on your silent ladyship.

Sir Fran. Does that bother him? Ha, ha, ha.

Miran. So, Sir George is still deeply unhappy and has sent his loyal Squire to express his complaint: Ha, ha, ha.

Marpl. Yes, Madam; and you, like a cruel, hard-hearted Jew, value it no more—than I would your Ladyship, if I were Sir George, you, you, you—

Miran. Oh, don’t use names. I know you love to be busy, and I’ll help you out; you can take a message to him from me.

38 Marpl. As I see it: What is it?

Miran. No, you can be sure he's a nice guy— First, let him know, I’ve chosen this gentleman to have and to hold, and so on.

Sir Fran. Oh, that sweet troublemaker, how I adore her!

Miran. And tell him not to bother me anymore, because I would choose Sir Francis as a husband over all the fools in the world.

Marpl. Oh my gosh, oh my gosh! She’s definitely under a spell; here’s a husband for eighteen— here’s a figure— here are bones rattling in a leather bag. (Turning Sir Francis around.) Here’s stiff fabric and canvas, to scrub you into repentance.

Sir Fran. Hey, my cane is going to teach you a lesson in repentance soon.

Marpl. No way, I felt its Twin-Brother from just such a withered Hand too recently.

Miran. One more thing, tell him to stay away from the Garden Gate on the left side; because if he has the nerve to hang around there around eight o'clock like he used to, he’ll be greeted with a pistol or a shotgun.

Sir Fran. Oh no! Why Chargee; did he used to come to the Garden Gate?

Miran. The Gardener described another guy who always kept an eye on him and really wanted to bribe him to get inside—he should tell him he’ll find a warm welcome if he comes tonight.

Marpl. Guns and shotguns! Wow, what a warm welcome; I'll make sure to let him know about your kindness and suggest he keeps his distance.

Miran. I hope he will understand my point better than to take your advice.

Sir Fran. You’ve signed, sealed, and taken possession of my heart; forever, Chargee, ha, ha, ha; and for you, Mr. Smart-mouth, spare me your messages if you ever want to inherit your estate, my good man.

Marpl. There it is now. I’m sure I’ll be out of your grasp one day. — Well, Guardian, I won’t say anything more; but if you’re not the biggest fool, like anyone who ever struck a deal on the trading floor or waited around at a court; then I’m the son of a whetstone; and so, I remain your humble servant.

Miran. Don't forget the message; lol.

Sir Fran. I'm so annoyed! Good thing he's gone.

Miran. Oh, don't worry about him, Gardee, let's just sign the documents, and then—

Sir Fran. And then— Adod, I think I’ve changed; my heart is racing, and my blood is boiling, I think—

Miran. Oh come on, Gardee, don't be so aggressive; Remember the Market is open all year— Well, I'll go in and see if the Lawyer has arrived, you follow.

Sir Fran. Yes, to the ends of the Earth, my dear. Well, Franck, you’re a lucky guy in your old age, to have such a lovely companion and thirty thousand pounds in love with you; I’ll be the envy of bachelors, the pride of married men, and the talk of the town. Some guardians would be happy to settle for part of the estate when marrying off an heiress, but I get it all: O! Mihi præteritos referet si Jupiter Annos.

Sir Geo. Come on, don’t be so serious, Charles; Bad things happen: Ha, ha, ha, it’s nice to have someone to share in our troubles.

Char. I am only worried about Isabinda; her father's temper is unforgiving, and just thinking about how far his jealousy might go to ruin her terrifies me.

Sir Geo. But since you got away without him finding out, his anger will soon settle down, so don’t worry about it.

Char. But who knows what that unfortunate Dog, Marplot, told him; and I can't imagine what made him come here; that guy is always causing trouble; and yet, to give him credit, he never intends to. This is some clumsy mix-up where he thought he was showing his friendship, as he calls it: A curse on him. 40

Sir Geo. Then you have to forgive him; what did he say?

Char. I swear! I’d rather slit his throat than listen to his excuses.

Where is Sir Geo.?

Whisp. Sir, I just saw him go into Sir Francis Gripe's.

Char. Oh! Then he's on your case, Sir George; there’s a good chance he’ll mess something up there too.

Sir Geo. No way, unless he impresses the Lady and flirts with Sir Francis.

Draw. Mr. Marplot is downstairs, gentlemen, and wants to know if he can have your permission to see you.

Char. How polite the rogue is when he has made a mistake!

Sir Geo. Hey! Ask him to come up. Please, Charles, lighten up and be good company.

Char. No, forget it, I'm not mad at him. Whisper, bring me a pen, ink, and paper.

Whisp. Yes, Sir.

Char. Just take a look at his sheepish expression, Sir George.

Marpl. Dear Charles, don't overwhelm a man who's already dealing with unbearable grief. I'm sure I always mean to help my friends, but if my unlucky circumstances prevent happiness, is that my fault?

Sir Geo. Don't worry about him, Mr. Marplot, he's just being moody. But tell me, what does Miranda say?

Marpl. Says—no, we're all doomed there too.

Char. I told you so; nothing he tries succeeds.

Marpl. Why should I help her after choosing your father for better or worse?

Char. So, that's another twist of fate; I guess I'll be pushed out of my estate, having twins every year, no matter who has them.

Sir Geo. What is the woman really possessed of?

41 G Marpl. Yes, with the Spirit of Contradiction, she went off on you quite a bit.

Sir Geo. That's not a bad sign.

Marpl. You'd think it was a bad sign if you knew everything.

Sir Geo. Why, please?

Marpl. Listen, Sir George, I need to warn you, don’t go after your old haunt anymore; it could be risky.

Sir Geo. My old favorite spot, what do you mean?

Marpl. So, to put it simply, since you insist on it, Miranda warns that if you try to come near the Garden Gate at eight o'clock like you used to, you'll be met with a blunderbuss, sir. Those were her exact words; in fact, she told me to make sure you heard it too.

Sir George, Ha! The Garden-Gate at Eight, like I used to do! There has to be a meaning behind this. Is there really such a gate, Charles?

Char. Yeah, yeah; it leads into the Park. I guess her Ladyship has had her fair share of runs through it.

Sir Geo. It must be a secret meeting then. Ha, my heart is filled with joy; it's a lucky sign. My dear Marplot, let me hug you, you are my friend, my better angel—

Marpl. What do you mean, Sir George?

Sir Geo. It doesn't matter what I mean. Here, cheers to the Garden-Gate, you dear rascal.

Marpl. You have every right to be amazed, Sir George; I’ve saved your life.

Sir Geo. My life! You’ve saved my soul, man. Charles, if you don’t raise a glass to this toast, may you never experience the joys of love.

Char. Whisper, make sure you handle this carefully (gives him the letter) and bring me the response to my place.

Whisp. I assure you, Sir.

42 Marpl. Where is that letter headed?— Now I don’t even dare to ask for my blood.

Char. I'm here for you now.

Sir Geo. To the Garden Gate at Eight O’clock, Charles, let’s go, hooray!

Char. I'm starting to understand you.

Marpl. That's more than I do, wow—to the Garden-Gate, Hooray, (Beverages.) But I hope you plan to stay far enough away from it, Sir George.

Sir Geo. Yeah, yeah, don't worry about that; she'll see I couldn't care less about her frowns. Let her aim her Blunderbuss at the next fool; she won't get to me with her smoke, I guarantee it, Ha, ha, ha.

Marpl. Ah, Charles, if you could handle a disappointment like this En Cavalier, it would be comforting to know that losing for you isn't so bad.

Char. The Fool understands nothing.

Sir Geo. Nor would I want him; please take him with you.

Char. That's enough: Marplot, you're coming home with me.

Marpl. I'm glad we're good, though. Sir George, yours. Wow, Charles, inviting me to go home with him makes me think there's more to this Garden-Gate than I understand. Honestly, I'll catch him off guard, head over to Guardians, and figure it out.

Sir Geo. I kiss both your hands— And now for the garden gate.

Whisp.
HHey, Mrs. Patch, what a lucky moment to find you here so easily; my Master is dying from impatience.

Patch. My Lady thinks so, and at her request, I've been searching for you for the past hour to let you know that Sir Jealous has invited some friends over for dinner tonight, which gives your Master a chance to use his rope ladder. The closet window will be open, and Isabinda will be ready to let him in; tell him to come right away.

Whisp. Great, he won't let me down, I promise you: But wait, I have a letter here that I need to deliver a response to: I can’t figure out what language the address is in.

Patch. Pho, it's not a language, but a code the lovers created to avoid being discovered. Ha, I hear my old master coming down the stairs; it's impossible for you to have a response. Quick, tell him to come down himself—hurry, we’re done for if you're seen, because he’s doubled his caution since the last incident.

Whisp. I'm on my way.

Patch. There, go into my pocket. [Puts it down beside and it falls over.] Now I’ll go up the back stairs, so I don’t run into him. Well, a skilled chambermaid is a woman’s best accessory, I say.

Sir Jeal. So, this is some comfort; it tells me that Seignior Don Diego Babinetto has arrived safely. He’ll marry my daughter the minute he gets here, ha. What's this? [picks up the letter Patch dropped] A letter! I can't make sense of the address. Let me see what’s inside. [opens it] Hmph; I think it’s Hebrew. What could this mean? There must be some trick here; this was definitely meant for my daughter, but I don’t think she speaks anything but her native tongue. No matter, this might be some kind of love code, and I think I just saw Patch’s tail sweep by. That girl may be a mess, and instead of protecting my honor, she could betray it; I’m determined to find out. Who’s there? What answer did you bring from the gentlemen I sent you to invite?

Serv. That they’d all be waiting for you, Sir, like I mentioned before, but I guess you forgot, Sir.

Sir Jeal. Did I really? Well, if any of them show up, I won’t hesitate to smash your head, Sir.

Serv. Come on, Sir, why didn't you send me to ask for their company, Sir?

Sir Jeal. But I’m sending you now to ask them to leave; tell them something unexpected has come up that requires me to go out, and ask for their forgiveness. Oh, and can you send the butler to me?

Serv. Yes, Sir.

Sir Jeal. If this paper has a meaning, I'll figure it out. Set the table in my daughter's room and tell the cook to send supper there right away.

Butl. Yes, Sir—wow, what's going on now?

Sir Jeal. He wants the Eyes of Argus, who has a young, attractive daughter in this town, but the good news is that I won't have to deal with her for long. Anyone who thinks they can control a girl in her teens might as well be at sea in a storm; they'd be safer there.

Isab. Are you sure no one saw you talking to Whisper?

Patch. Yes, I’m sure, ma’am, but I heard Sir Jealous coming down the stairs, so I slipped this letter into my pocket.

Isab. A letter! Hand it over to me quickly.

Patch. Bless me! What happened to it—I’m sure I put it—

Isab. Is it possible you could be so careless— Oh! I'm ruined forever if it's gone.

Patch. I must have dropped it on the stairs. But why are you so worried? If the worst happens, no one will be able to read it, Madam, or figure out who it was meant for.

Isab. If it gets into my father's hands, just the shape of a letter will cause trouble. Go and look for it on the stairs right now.

Patch. No, I'm sure it can't be anywhere else.— (As she is leaving the door, she runs into the Butler.) What do you need?

Butl. My boss told me to set the table here for his dinner.

Isab. Ruined beyond redemption—

Patch. You're mistaken; what should we do?

Isab. I thought he was expecting company tonight— Oh! poor Charles— Oh! unlucky Isabinda.

Butl. I thought so too, ma'am, but I guess he's changed his mind.

Isab. The letter is the problem; this careless action has ruined me: Quick, close the closet window, so Charles will know to leave. Oh, my father, what a mess.

Sir Jeal. Wait, wait, Patch, where do you think you're going? I'm not letting anyone leave the room until after dinner.

Patch. Sir, I was just about to get to your comfy chair— Oh! what a terrible accident!

46 Sir Jeal. I won't have anyone leave the room. I don't want my comfy chair.

What will happen now?

Sir Jeal. Listen up, Daughter, do you recognize this hand?

Isab. Just as I thought— What do you call it, Sir? It’s some schoolboy's scribble.

Patch. Oh! Invention, you are the best friend of the chambermaid, help me.

Sir Jeal. Are you really sure you don't get it?

Isab. Do you get it, Sir?

Sir Jeal. I wish I could.

Isab. Thank God you don’t. (aside) Then I really don’t know any more about it than you do, Sir.

Patch. Oh Lord, oh Lord, what have you done, Sir? The paper is mine; I dropped it out of my pocket.

Sir Jeal. Ha! Yours, Mistress.

Isab. What does she mean by taking ownership of it?

Patch. Yes, it is.

Sir Jeal. What’s going on? Speak.

Patch. Well, Sir, it's a charm for a toothache. I've had it for seven years; an angel gave it to me, or so I believe, when I was in agony with the pain. No one knew where he came from or where he went. He told me never to open it, or something terrible would happen, and who knows what the outcome will be. Oh! What bad luck that I dropped it, and you opened it— If only you hadn't opened it—

Isab. Great Woman.

Sir Jeal. Forget your charms and quirks; if that's all there is to it, that's fine. Go ahead, burn it, and I guarantee that no revenge will come from it.

Patch. So, everything's okay again for now.

Isab. I wouldn’t trade Patch for anything in the world—I’ll gather my courage a bit. (aside) Is this how you treat your daughter, sir? Do you really suspect my virtue and behavior? For every little thing, you confine me like I’m some serious criminal, denying me all the activities that my gender enjoys, as allowed by our customs and modesty. And if that’s not enough, you make my confinement even more unbearable with your suspicions and jealousy. I wish I were dead, just to be free from this.

Sir Jeal. Tomorrow you’ll be free of this annoying burden—Don Diego Babinetto will be here, and then my worries will end and his will start.

Isab. Is he here then! Oh, how am I going to get out of this awful marriage?

Sir Jeal. Will you sit down?

I can't eat, Sir.

Patch. No, I swear he has fed her enough for dinner. I wish I could get into the closet—

Sir Jeal. Well, if you can't eat, then sing me a song while I do.

Isab. I have such a bad cold that I can hardly speak, Sir, let alone sing. How can I keep Charles from coming in?

Sir Jeal. I hope you can use your fingers, Madam. Play a tune on your Spinnet, while your maid sings me a song.

Patch. I'm just as off-key as my lady, if he knew the whole story.

Isab. I will make great music.

Patch. Honestly, Sir, I'm so scared about you opening this Charm that I can't remember a single Song.

Sir Jeal. Come on, forget your worries; let's just sing something.

Patch. Yes, I’m probably going to sing well (side note) humph, humph, oh my, Sir, I can’t raise my Voice, my Heart is racing so.

Sir Jeal. Why is your heart racing so much that you can't even play? What key are you in, huh?

Patch. Ah, I wish the key could turn for you just once.

Sir Jeal. Why aren't you singing, I ask!

Patch. When Madam has tuned her Spinnet, Sir, humph, humph.—

48 Isab. I can't play, Sir, no matter what's going on with me.

Sir Jeal. Damn it, sit down and play me a tune, or I'll smash the Spinnet over your head.

Isab. What will happen to me?

Sir Jeal. Come on, Mistress.

Patch. Yes, Sir.

Sir Jeal. Hey, why are you up in the House while you're down in the Cellar? What does this mean? Are you doing this on purpose to mess with me, huh?

Patch. Please, ma'am, lower it a bit; I can't reach that note—nor any note, I’m afraid.

Isab. Well, let’s start— Oh! Patch, we’re going to get caught.

Patch. I feel overwhelmed with anxiety, ma'am—hmm, hmm—

Char. Music and Singing

Death! Her father is there, (The women scream) so I have to run—

Sir Jeal. Hell and Furies, a Man in the Closet—

Patch. Ah! a ghost, a ghost—he can’t go into the closet—

Sir Jeal. The Devil! I bet I can turn him into a ghost.

Patch. Oh wait, Sir, be careful, you'll step on my Lady— who’s there? Bring some water: Oh! This is what happens when you open the Charm: Oh, oh, oh, oh.

Sir Jeal. I’ll charm you, housewife, here’s the trick that brought this guy in—I’m sure of it. Come out, you rascal, do it! Damn it, get her away from the door, or I’ll kick her out and throw you down the stairs.

Isab. Oh, oh, where am I— He's gone, I heard him jump down.

Patch. No, then let him come in—here, here Madam, take a whiff of this; come, give me your hand; come closer to the window, the fresh air will do you good.

49 H Sir Jeal. I wish she were in her grave. Where are you, you scoundrel, thief of my honor; I’ll drag you out of your hiding place.

Patch. You’re wrong, old man; the bird has flown.

Isab. I'm glad I got out of that so well. I was seriously close to dying from fear.

Sir Jeal. Whoever the dog was, he escaped out of the window because the sash is up. But even though he’s out of my reach, you are not. And first, Mrs. Pandor, with your charms for toothaches, get out of my house, go on, leave; wait, hold on, I’ll see you out of my doors myself, but I’ll make sure to take care of your charge before I go.

Isab. What do you mean, Sir? Wasn't she a being that you created?

Sir Jeal. She might have been sent by the Devil for all I know.

Patch. What have I done, Sir, to deserve your displeasure?

Sir Jeal. I don’t know which of you did this, but you’re both going to pay for it until I figure out who’s guilty. Go get in there; I’ll move you from this side of the house. (Pushes Isabinda in through the other door, locks it; puts the key in his pocket.) I’ll keep the key myself: I’m going to see what kind of ghost will get into that room. And now, for sure, I’ll wait for you downstairs.

Patch. Oh, my poor lady— Downstairs, sir, but I won't go out, sir, until I check on my clothes.

Sir Jeal. If you were as bare as the day you were born, you shouldn’t waste time putting on a smock. Come on, I say, when your mistress gets married, you’ll get your clothes and everything else that’s yours; but until then—

Patch. Oh! cruel use for nothing.

Sir Jeal. There, go away, and don’t come back within sight of my place for the next three days, I insist.

50 Patch. Has anyone ever seen such an old creature!

Patch. Oh! Mr. Charles, our situations are not good.

Char. I’m trapped by bad luck: But what happened to you?

Patch. Sir Jealous, whose suspicious nature is always on high alert; even while one eye sleeps, the other is keeping watch: Upon seeing you, he flew into such a rage that I couldn’t think of any way to calm him down. In spite of all my arguments, he locked his daughter in his own room and kicked me out.

Ha! Oh, Isabinda.

Patch. And she promises that she won't see the Sun or the Moon until she becomes Don Diego Babinetto's Wife, who arrived last night and is eagerly awaited.

Char. He’s going to die, yes, because of all the injustices of love; I will stand my ground here, and he will have to go through me if he wants to come in.

Patch. A truly heroic resolution. There might be better ways to your advantage. Strategy is often preferred over outright force.

I don't understand you.

Patch. What do you think about pretending to be this Spaniard, tricking the Father, and marrying your Mistress with his own consent?

Char. Did you really say that, my Angel! Oh, if only that could happen, my life would be too short to repay you: But how can I do that when I don’t know what ship he came in, where in Spain he’s from, who is vouching for him, or who he’s with?

Patch. I can figure all this out. He’s from Madrid, and his father’s name is Don Pedro Questo Portento Babinetto. Here’s a letter from him to Sir Jealous that he dropped one day; you understand Spanish, and the handwriting could be faked: You get what I mean, Sir.

51 H2 Char. My good spirit, you've lifted my spirits: I'll get to it right away. Come to my place, and we'll plan things out.

Sir Geo. So, this is the Gate, and it’s wide open: If there happened to be a Blunderbuss here now, what a terrible story my fall would create for idiots; and what a joke for the clever ones; how my name would be shouted in the streets. Well, I’ll risk it all.

Scentw. Hush, hush, Sir George Airy—

Sir Geo. A female voice, so far I’m okay, my dear.

Scentw. No, I'm not your dear, but I'll take you to her, give me your hand; you have to go through many dark passages and dirty steps before you get there—

Sir Geo. I know I need to before I get to Paradise; so hurry up, my lovely Guide.

Scentw. For all you know; come on, let’s go and leave.

Sir Geo. Here, here Child, you can't be anywhere near as quick as what I want.

Miran. Well, let me think this through a bit. Don’t I break all the rules by getting involved with a man without the guidance of the wise and serious? But then there's that overbearing, dishonest guardian who would have married me off. To whom? To himself, which is disgusting, or to no one at all. Sir George is someone I’ve engaged with in conversation and looked into his character, and I’m convinced about both. And his love? He would have paid a hundred pounds just to see a woman he didn't love deeply? So, I realize my feelings for him have given me plenty of reasons to support his side of things; now the only question left is whether he will actually come or not.

Scentw. That’s settled, ma'am, because here comes the Knight.

Sir Geo. Do I once again see that beautiful person, whose image fills my thoughts and shapes my delightful dreams!

Miran. Starting over again with all this drama!— Sir George, don’t you recall how little response your last grand speech got? Not a single word in reply.

Sir Geo. Ha! the voice of my Incognita— why did you try so hard to win a heart that your eyes alone had conquered?

Miran. Please, no more of these tangents; our time is limited, and we need to get down to business. Do you think we can really agree on that same dreadful concept, Matrimony, without genuinely regretting it on both sides?

Sir Geo. I have wished for this since the moment my eager eyes first saw you.

Miran. And your eager ears soaked up the good news that I had thirty thousand pounds.

Sir Geo. Unkind! Didn't I offer you in those bought minutes to take the risk with your fortune, just so you would secure that lovely person in my arms?

Miran. Well, if you have this Love and Tenderness, (since our courtship has been brief) please save it for our future days, to show the world we are lovers after marriage; it will be something new—

Sir Geo. Hurry up, and let’s get hitched and show off the envied couple—

Miran. Wait! Not so fast, I've prepared better than to jump into risky experiments without thinking— My Guardian, relying on my feigned love, has handed over my fortune to me; but with this condition, that he marries me tomorrow morning. He’s gone to Doctors Commons for a license.

Sir Geo. Ha, a License!

Miran. But I have set up Emissaries that will definitely lead him to Epsom, pretending that a Brother Usurer of his is going to make him his Executor; the one thing on Earth he desires. 53

Sir Geo. It's his known character.

Miran. My instruments confirm it, this man is dying, and he just sent me word that he’s leaving any minute now; it won’t be until tomorrow that he realizes he was wrong. That time is ours.

Sir Geo. Let's make it better then, and agree on our future years filled with endless happiness.

Miran. I won't move until I hear he's on the road—then my writings, the most important thing, will be taken away quickly.

Sir Geo. I have one favor to ask, if it's within your power; could you please be a friend to poor Charles, even though he’s the son of this stubborn man? He is as free from all his faults as nature and a good upbringing can make him; and what I naively hope will persuade you is that he is the person I love most in the world.

Miran. I was never actually his enemy; I just pretended to be because it supported my plans regarding his father. If his uncle's estate rightfully belongs to him, which I strongly suspect, I could do him a significant favor.

Sir Geo. You're so kind.

Scentw. Oh, Madam, my Master and Mr. Marplot are just arriving at the house.

Miran. Finished, finished! If he finds you here in this crisis, all my plans will fall apart.

Sir Geo. What should I do! Can't I get back into the Garden?

Scentw. Oh no! He's coming up those stairs.

Miran. Hey, hey, hey! Can you do me a favor and stand behind this chimney board, Sir George?

Sir Geo. Anywhere, anywhere, dear Madam, without any formalities.

Scentw. Come, come, Sir; lie down—

54

Sir Fran. I couldn't go, even though it's a matter of life and death, without saying goodbye to dear Chargee. Besides, this guy kept buzzing in my ears that you might be so reckless as to shoot that wild troublemaker who hangs around the garden gate; and that would get us into trouble, dear—

Miran. So, Marplot brought you back then: I owe him for that, I'm sure—

Marpl. By her expression, she means she's not obligated to me. I've caused some trouble now, but I can’t figure out what it is.

Sir Fran. Well, Chargee, I've had three messengers go to Epsom to see my neighbor Squeezum, who, despite his great wealth, is leaving.

Marpl. Yeah, look at what you all Usurers have come to.

Sir Fran. Peace, you young rascal! In about forty years I might think about this— But, Chargee, I'll be with you tomorrow before those lovely eyes open; I will, I will, Chargee, I'll wake you up, I promise.— Here, Mrs. Scentwell, lift up your lady's chimney board so I can throw my peel in without making a mess in her room.

Miran. Oh my gosh! What’s going to happen to us now?

Scentw. Oh, please, sir, give it to me; I love it more than anything in nature, I really do.

Sir Fran. No, no, Hussy; you already have the Green Pip, I'm not paying for any more doctor's bills.

Miran. Wait, wait, wait, dear Gardee, I have a Monkey locked up there; and if you open it before the guy comes to tame it, it's so wild it will break all my China or escape, and that would break my heart because I'm obsessed with it, next to you, dear Gardee.

Sir Fran. Well, well, Chargee, I won’t open it; she’ll get her Monkey, poor thing; here, throw this Peel out of the window.

Marpl. A monkey, dear Madam, let me see it; I can tame a monkey just as well as anyone else. Oh how I love the little versions of humans. 55

Miran. Be quiet, Mischief, and move away from the Chimney— You won't see my Monkey—of course—

Marpl. For heaven's sake, dear Madam, let me just take a quick look to see if it’s as pretty as Lady Fiddle-Faddle’s. Does it have a chain?

Miran. Not yet, but I plan for it to last a lifetime: No, you won't see it— Look, Gardee, how he teases me!

Sir Fran. (Getting between him and the chimney.) Hey, you! Leave my Chargee's monkey alone, or Bambo will cause a ruckus around your ears. Can't you deal with this?

Marpl. Pugh, what a disaster! I hope he can compete with you.

Serv. Sir, they added two more horses to the coach, just as you ordered, and it’s ready at the door.

Sir Fran. Well, I'm going to be the Executor, that's better for you, Jewel. Bye Chargee, one kiss!— I'm glad you have a Monkey to entertain you a bit.

Miran. Thank you, dear Gardee.— No, I'll walk you to the car.

Sir Fran. That's kind, dude.

Miran. Come on, Impertinence.

Marpl. (Stepping back.) Wow, I’m going to see the Monkey: Now (Lifts up the Board and finds Sir George.) Oh my God, Oh my God! Thieves, Thieves, Murder!

Sir Geo. Dam'e, you unfortunate dog! It’s me; how do I get out? Show me right now, or I’ll slit your throat.

Marpl. It's over, it's over! At that door there. But wait, wait, break that china, and I'll help you out.

Sir Fran. What’s happening?

Miran. Oh, you Toad! What have you done?

56 Marpl. No big deal, please forgive me: I just wanted to see the Monkey, so I lifted the Board, and it flew over my shoulders, scratched my face, broke that china, and darted out the window.

Sir Fran. What an incredibly unlucky guy! Listen, I’m kicking you out of my house. Get the staff to fetch the monkey again; I’d stay to watch it myself, but you know I have important things to take care of.

Scentw. Oh my Lady will be the best at bringing it back; all those creatures really love my Lady.

Miran. Go on, dear Gardee; I hope I can get it back.

Sir Fran. B'ye, bye, dear. Ah, Mischief, you look so different now! Bye, bye.

Miran. Scentwell, see him in the Coach, and let me know what’s going on.

Scent. Yes, Ma'am.

Miran. So, Sir, I take it you've done a great favor for your friend, right?

Marpl. Look, Madam! If I’ve made a mistake, it’s your fault; no one is more helpful when I’m in on a secret, and no one is worse at discovering it. Who could have guessed what you meant when you mentioned a blunderbuss, or who would think of a rendezvous? And when you brought up a monkey, who on earth would think of Sir George?

Miran. It's a sign that you don't talk much with our kind when you can't make sense of contradictions.

Scentw. He's gone, ma'am, as quickly as the coach and six can take him.

Sir Geo. Then I can show up.

Marpl. Dear Sir George, forgive me! Honestly, I didn’t even think of you.

Sir Geo. I swear you didn’t. Ma’am, I ask you to forgive him.

Miran. Well, Sir George, if he can keep it under wraps.

57 I Marpl. Oh my goodness, Madam, I'm just as discreet as a Priest when I'm trusted.

Sir Geo. Why, it's with a Priest that we're dealing with right now.

Scentw. Ma'am, here’s Mrs. Isabinda's lady to assist you.

Miran. Bring her here.

How are you, Mrs. Patch? What's the news from your lady?

Patch. That's for your private ears, ma'am. Sir George, there's a friend of yours who urgently needs your help.

Sir Geo. His Name.

Patch. Charles.

Marpl. Ha! So there’s something going on that I’m not aware of. I’ll wait for you, Sir George.

Sir Geo. It might not be appropriate to include a third person; as soon as I take care of my own matters, I'll be at his service. I'll send my servant to let him know that I'll see him in half an hour.

Miran. Why are you involved in this message, Mrs. Patch?

Patch. I'm out of work, ma'am. My boss let me go, but I still hope to work for you.

Miran. How relieved! You have to fill me in on the entire story inside.

Patch. With all my heart, ma'am.

Marpl. Ugh! Ugh, I really wish I could leave this place. I realize that marriage means the end of this secret: And now I'm half crazy to find out what Charles needs him for.

Sir Geo. Madam, I'm feeling the pressure from both Love and Friendship: This situation allows for no delay. Should we include Marplot in the group?

Miran. If you're going to take the risk, sir George; I think he has good intentions.

Marpl. No, no, as for me, I don’t want to be involved in anything: I'll leave, so please don’t doubt me.

Sir Geo. So now he wants to leave for Charles: but since I’m not sure what business he might have going on right now, I’m determined he won’t go. No, Mr. Marplot, you can't leave us; we need a third person.

Marpl. I've never felt more eager to leave in my life.

Miran. Alright then; if we mess up this journey, you can thank yourself for bringing this unlucky guy along.

Mr. Geo.

Miran.
WELL, Patch, I’ve done something really bold! My fate is set, and I have no more hopes. To escape the foolishness and deceit of an old man, I’ve immersed myself in the recklessness of a young one; if he should look down on me, ignore me, or treat me badly, there’s no escape from a husband except for death; and that’s a terrible refuge for someone my age and health.

Patch. Oh, don’t worry, Madam, you’ll definitely benefit from Sir George Airy; it’s impossible for a sensible man to treat a woman poorly when she has beauty, wit, and fortune. It must be the lady’s fault if she doesn’t embrace the old-fashioned title of wife easily, especially when all that’s needed from both sides for happiness is kindness and a good attitude.

Miran. I can't wait to get out of this House, in case anything happens that brings my Guardian back. Scentwell, put my best jewels in the small box, slip them into your pocket, and let’s head over to Sir Jealous's.

Scentw. It will be done, Madam.

59 I2 Patch. Sir George will be anxious, Madam; if their plan works out, we’ll be welcomed; if it doesn’t, he’ll be able to keep us safe. Also, I can’t wait to find out how my young Lady is doing.

Miran. Goodbye, old Mammon, and your hated Walls; it won't be sweet Sir Francis anymore, I will no longer have to pretend to get what I want, and sweet-talk him with the cutesy names of my Precious, my Dear, dear Gardee. Oh my God!

Sir Fran. Ah, my dear Chargee, don’t be scared. (She begins.) But your poor Gardee has been mistreated, tricked, made a fool of, betrayed, but no one knows by whom.

Miran. (Aside.) Unraveled! No chance for redemption.

Sir Fran. Why won't you talk to me, Chargee!

Miran. I'm so surprised with joy to see you, I don't even know what to say.

Sir Fran. Poor, dear girl! But do you know that my son, or some kind of scoundrel, planned this trip to rob or kill me, or maybe both? Because on the way, I ran into my neighbor Squeezum who was doing well and coming to town.

Miran. Good grief, good grief! What tricks are there in this world!

Scentw. Madam, please tie this necklace on; because I can't get it into the—

Miran. I think that girl is foolish! Couldn't you have taken it to be fixed without putting it in the box?

Sir Fran, what's wrong?

Miran. Only Dear'e, I ask her, I ask her— Your bad treatment has made me forget everything. But can you, Gardee, go and find these guys and get them punished? And, and—

Sir Fran. Where should I look for them, Child? No, I'll sit here happy with my safety and won’t leave my house until I go with you to a pastor.

60 Miran. (Just saying.) If he goes into his room, I’m done for. Oh! please help me in this panic, I totally forgot about Mrs. Patch.

Patch. Yes, Madam, and I'm waiting for your quick response.

Miran. (Aside.) I need to get him out of the house. Now help me, Fortune.

Sir Fran. Mrs. Patch, I honestly didn't see you. How are you, Mrs. Patch? Don't you regret leaving my Chargee?

Patch. Yes, everyone must love her—but I came here— Madam, what was I here for? My creativity has run dry.

Sir Fran, never whisper, tell me.

Miran. She came, dear Gardee, to invite me to her Lady's wedding, and you should come with me, Gardee. It’s happening right now with a Spanish merchant. Old Sir Jealous is in his usual mood; one minute he sees her, and the next, he’s marrying her.

Sir Fran. Ha, ha, ha, I'd go if I thought seeing Matrimony would convince Chargee to keep her promise: There was a smile, a approving glance with those pretty eyes, worth a million. Ods precious, I am happier than the Great Mogul, the Emperor of China, or all the rulers who aren't at war. Speak, confirm it, make me jump out of my skin.

Miran. Once someone has made up their mind, it's pointless to waver. I will, I will—if I ever get married, this is definitely my Wedding Day.

Sir Fran. Oh! happy, happy man— Truly, I will have a son, and the first night will disinherit that jerk, Charles. I have enough wealth to buy a barony and make the entire Gripes family legendary.

Miran. Come on then Gardee, give me your hand, let's go to this House of Hymen.

Sir Fran.

Miran.

61

Serv. Sir, there are a couple of gentlemen asking for you; one of them goes by the name Señor Diego Babinetto.

Sir Jeal. Ha! Seignor Babinetto! Let them in immediately— Joyful Minute; I want my daughter to get married tonight.

Sir Jeal. Senior, your hands are kissed; you are very welcome in this land.

Char. Sir, I am very humble, and very grateful to your mercy: My father sends his deepest respects to you; and has commissioned this English merchant to finalize a deal that makes me the happiest man in the world, making me his son-in-law.

Sir Jeal. I'm glad about that, because I realize I've lost a lot of my Spanish. Sir, I am your most humble servant. Seignor Don Diego Babinetto has informed me that you are commissioned by Seignor Don Pedro, etc., his esteemed father.

Sir Geo. I’m here to witness the marriage between your daughter and Seignor Diego Babinetto, his son. It's true, Sir, I have a responsibility in this matter, as that letter will explain. I hope it will go well with him. (Aside.)

Sir Jeal. Yes, that's his signature.

Sir Geo. Good —— you have imitated perfectly, Charles.

Char. If the whole plan works out as well, I'm happy.

Sir Jeal. Sir, I can see from this that you are a man of honor and integrity; I believe, Sir, he refers to you as Meanwell.

My name is Sir Geo. Meanwell.

Sir Jeal. A really good name, and very meaningful.

Char. Yeah, Faith, if he knew everything.

Sir Jeal. To mean well is to be honest, and being honest is the virtue of a friend, and a friend is the joy and support of human society.

Sir Geo. You'll see that I'll fulfill my role as a friend in what I've taken on, Sir Jealous.

62 Char. But he has no idea to whom.

Sir Geo. So, I must request the presence of your lovely daughter and the help of your chaplain; because Seignor Don Pedro insisted that I ensure the marriage ceremony is carried out as soon as we arrive, to avoid any unexpected advances from Venus.

Sir Jeal. Overtures of Venus!

Sir Geo. Yeah, sir, those little Hawking girls who wander around the Park and the theater trying to sell their damaged goods—they latch onto tourists like leeches and keep an eye on their arrival just as the people from Kent do with a shipwreck. I bet they already know about him.

Sir Jeal. No, I know this town is full of them.

Sir Geo. Yeah, and you know the Spaniards are naturally affectionate, but very loyal. The first person they see can really capture them, and it might be risky to let them wander before they’re committed.

Char. Well said.

Sir Jeal. Pat to my Purpose— Well, Sir, there's just one more thing, and they will get married right away.

Char. I hope to God that one more thing doesn't ruin everything.

Sir Jeal. Don Pedro wrote to me in his second-to-last letter that he planned to give a total of five thousand crowns as a dowry for my daughter, and that it would be paid to me on the day of the wedding.

Char. Oh! the Devil.

Sir Jeal. To invest it in some of our Funds, in case she becomes a widow and returns to England.

Sir Geo. Damn it, this is an unfortunate turn of events. What should I say?

Sir Jeal. And he doesn't say a word about it in this letter.

Char. I have no idea how he should.

Sir Geo. Humph! True, Sir Jealous, he told me something like that, but, but, but, but—he, he, he, he—he didn’t think you would demand it on the very day, because, because, because, because money, you know, is risky to return by sea, an, an, an, an—

63 Char. Wow, let’s say we’ve brought it in goods.

Sir Geo. So, he sent it in merchandise: tobacco, sugar, spices, lemons, and so on, which will be quickly converted into money. In the meantime, if you’d like, I can provide my bond for the performance.

Sir Jeal. That’s enough, Sir. I’m so pleased with the presence of Seignor Diego and the sound of your name that I’ll trust you, and I’ll go get my daughter right now. Inside there (Enter Server), please ask Mr. Tackum, my neighbor’s chaplain, to come over.

Sure thing, Sir.

Sir Jeal. Gentlemen, I'll be back in a moment.

Char. That's amazing. Let me give you a hug.

Sir Geo. Wow, that 5000 l. almost messed up the whole plan.

Char. But that’s behind us! And if luck doesn’t throw any more obstacles in our path.

Sir Geo. You'll take the prize—but wait, here he comes.

Sir Jeal. Come on, you stubborn person, let’s go.

Isabella.

Sir Jeal. How's that going?

Isab.

Char. Oh! I wish I could show her who I really am.

Sir Geo. Be careful about what you do. It's better to rely on his stubbornness.

Sir Jeal. Have you ever seen such a wicked person? I say, Mr. Meanwell, please help me out a bit.

64 Sir Geo. Please get up, Madam, and don’t upset your father, who has found you a husband deserving of you—one who will love you with all his heart, and one you will love once you get to know him.

Isab. Oh! never, never. If I could suspect that there was deceit in my heart, I would right now tear it from my chest and hand him the treacherous part.

Char. Oh! my lovely loyal Dear.

Sir Jeal. Lies! Who the hell are you in love with? Ha! Don't push me, because I swear on St. Jago, I will beat you, Housewife.

Char. Heaven forbid; for I will definitely find out about myself if he does.

Sir Geo. Have patience, ma'am! Just look at him: Why would you set your mind against a man who has all the qualities you want in a husband?

Sir Jeal. Yeah, look at him, Isabinda, Senior, come forward.

Char. It hurts me to see her sad, someone I thought would welcome me with joy. Seniora, please do me the favor.

Sir Jeal. (Lifting her head.) Hold up your head, hold up your head, Housewife, and look at him: Is there a more suitable, better-looking, well-shaped guy in England, you stubborn girl? Ha! Look, look, the stubborn woman closes her eyes; by St. Jago, I feel like knocking them out.

Isab.

Sir Geo. Sir Jealous, you're too intense. Allow me, I'll attempt to persuade her gently to see things your way.

Sir Jeal. Please do, Mr. Meanwell, I really need you to; she’ll break my heart. (crying) In that, there are jewels worth £3000 that belonged to her mother; and a document where I’ve set aside half of my estate for her now, and the whole thing when I die. But if she marries this gentleman, otherwise by St. Jago, I swear I’ll throw her out on the street to beg or starve. Please tell her this, Mr. Meanwell.

65 K Sir Geo. Ha! This is beyond what I expected— Trust me, Sir, I'll make sure she understands the serious risks of ignoring you right now, I promise.

Char. A sudden joy runs through my heart like a good omen.

Sir Geo. Come on, Madam, don’t recklessly throw your life away right when you want to embrace it.

Isab. Please stop bothering me, Sir. I wish for nothing but a quick death to free me from this hated Spaniard. If you’re his friend, let him know what I said; my heart belongs to another young man whom I love with the same intensity that I hate this Diego. If I have to marry him, I’ll cut the knot myself.

Sir Geo. What if this Spaniard you’re trying to avoid is actually the one you would run to?

Ha!

Sir Geo. Would you not regret your hasty choice and curse those Eyes that refused to gaze upon Charles?

Isab. Oh, Charles! You've given me new life and gathered all my scattered feelings. Where is he? Oh! Let me run into his arms.

Sir Geo. Wait, wait, wait, 'Zdeath, Madam, you'll mess everything up, your Father thinks he's Seignor Barbinetto. Please try to calm down a bit, Madam.

Char. Her eyes show that she recognizes me.

Sir Geo. She's starting to understand reason, Sir, the fear of being kicked out has brought it on.

Isab. It's him, oh! my overwhelmed Soul.

Sir Geo. Be careful, Madam, not to give yourself away. Act like you’re hesitant to agree, or you’re finished, (runs to Sir Jealous,) speak softly to her, Sir, I'm sure she'll give in; I can see it in her face.

Sir Jeal. Well, Isabinda, can you turn down the blessing of a Father whose only concern is your happiness, as Mr. Meanwell told you? Come on, wipe your eyes; please do, or you'll shatter your Father's Heart; just know that you bring tears to my eyes thinking about your disrespectful behavior toward me. 66

Isab. Oh! please don’t cry, Sir, your tears stab my soul; do whatever you want with me, I’ll do whatever you ask.

Sir Jeal. Ha! Then you are my child again.

Sir Geo. It’s done, and now, my friend, the day is yours.

Char. The happiest time of my life, as long as nothing gets in the way.

Sir Jeal. Will you love him?

Isab. I'll do my best, Sir.