Patch. Ah! a Ghost, a Ghost—he must not enter the Closet—
(Isabinda throws her self down before the Closet-door as in a Sound.
Sir Jeal. The Devil! I'll make a Ghost of him I warrant you.
(Strives to get by.
Patch. Oh hold, Sir, have a care, you'l tread upon my Lady— who waits there? Bring some Water: Oh! this comes of your opening the Charm: Oh, oh, oh, oh.
(Weeps aloud.
Sir Jeal. I'll Charm you, House-wife, here lies the Charm, that conjur'd this Fellow in I'm sure on't, come out you Rascal, do so: Zounds take her from the Door, or I'll spurn her from it, and break your Neck down Stairs.
Isab. Oh, oh, where am I— He's gone, I heard him leap down.
(Aside to Patch.
Patch. Nay, then let him enter—here, here Madam, smell to this; come give me your Hand; come nearer to the Window, the Air will do you good.