Burr. So, their wooing's at an end; thanks to my wit.
Enter FAILER.
Fail. O Burr! whither is it Sir Timorous and Madam Isabella are gone together?
Burr. Adore my wit, boy; they are parted, never to meet again.
Fail. I saw them meet just now at the garden-door: So ho, ho, ho, who's within there! Help here quickly, quickly.
Enter NONSUCH and two Servants.
Non. What's the matter?
Fail. Your niece Isabella has stolen away Sir Timorous.
Non. Which way took they?
Fail. Follow me, I'll show you.