Isab. I shall make excellent Musick.
(Sits down to play.
Patch. Really, Sir, I'm so frighted about your opening this Charm, that I can't remember one Song.
Sir Jeal. Pish, hang your Charm; come, come, sing any thing.
Patch. Yes, I'm likely to sing truly (aside) humph, humph, bless me, Sir, I cannot raise my Voice, my Heart pants so.
Sir Jeal. Why, what does your Heart pant so that you can't play neither? Pray what Key are you in, ha?
Patch. Ah, wou'd the Key was turn'd of you once.
(Aside.
Sir Jeal. Why don't you sing, I say!
Patch. When Madam has put her Spinnet in Tune, Sir, humph, humph.—