Sir Geo. Nay, prithee don't be Grave, Charles; Misfortunes will happen: Ha, ha, ha, 'tis some Comfort to have a Companion in our Sufferings.
Char. I am only apprehensive for Isabinda, her Father's Humour is implacable; and how far his Jealousie may transport him to her Undoing, shocks my Soul to think.
Sir Geo. But since you escap'd undiscover'd by him, his Rage will quickly lash into a Calm, never fear it.
Char. But who knows what that unlucky Dog, Marplot, told him; nor can I imagine what brought him thither; that Fellow is ever doing Mischief; and yet, to give him his due, he never designs it. This is some Blundering Adventure, wherein he thought to shew his Friendship, as he calls it: A Curse on him.
Sir Geo. Then you must forgive him; what said he?
Char. Said! nay, I had more mind to cut his Throat, than hear his Excuses.
Sir Geo. Where is he?
Whisp. Sir, I saw him go into Sir Francis Gripe's just now.
Char. Oh! then he is upon your Business, Sir George; a thousand to one, but he makes some Mistake there too.
Sir Geo. Impossible, without he huffs the Lady, and makes Love to Sir Francis.