Sir Geo.
That Vessel ne'er can Unsuccessful prove,
Whose Freight is Beauty, and whose Pilot Love.
The End of the Fourth ACT.
Enter Miranda, Patch, and Scentwell.
Miran.
WELL, Patch, I have done a strange bold thing! my Fate is determin'd, and Expectation is no more. Now to avoid the Impertinence and Roguery of an old Man, I have thrown my self into the Extravagance of a young one; if he shou'd despise, slight or use me ill, there's no Remedy from a Husband, but the Grave; and that's a terrible Sanctuary to one of my Age and Constitution.
Patch. O fear not, Madam, you'll find your account in Sir George Airy; it is impossible a Man of Sense shou'd use a Woman ill, indued with Beauty, Wit and Fortune. It must be the Lady's fault, if she does not wear the unfashionable Name of Wife easie, when nothing but Complaisance and good Humour is requisite on either side to make them happy.
Miran. I long till I am out of this House, lest any Accident shou'd bring my Guardian back. Scentwell, put my best Jewels into the little Casket, slip them, into thy Pocket, and let us march off to Sir. Jealous's.
Scentw. It shall be done, Madam.
(Exit Scentwell.