(Aside to Isab.
Isab. Bless me! what's the matter, Sir?
Sir Jeal. You know best— Pray where's the Man that was here just now?
Isab. What Man, Sir? I saw none!
Patch. Nor I, by the Trust you repose in me; do you think I wou'd let a Man come within these Doors, when you were absent?
Sir Jeal. Ah Patch, she may be too cunning for thy Honesty; the very Scout that he had set to give Warning discover'd it to me—and threaten'd me with half a Dozen Mirmidons— But I think I maul'd the Villain. These Afflictions you draw upon me, Mistress!
Isab. Pardon me, Sir, 'tis your own Ridiculous Humour draws you into these Vexations, and gives every Fool pretence to banter you.
Sir Jeal. No, 'tis your Idle Conduct, your Coquetish Flurting into the Balcone— Oh with what Joy shall I resign thee into the Arms of Don Diego Babinetto!
Isab. And with what Industry shall I avoid him!
(Aside.