Patch. Ah, my poor Lady— Down Stairs, Sir, but I won't go out, Sir, till I have look'd up my Cloaths.
Sir Jeal. If thou wer't as naked as thou wer't born, thou should'st not stay to put on a Smock. Come along, I say, when your Mistress is marry'd you shall have your Rags, and every thing that belongs to you; but till then—
(Exit, pulling her out.
Patch. Oh! barbarous Usage for nothing.
Re-enter at the lower Door.
Sir Jeal. There, go, and, come no more within sight of my Habitation, these three Days, I charge you.
(Slaps the Door after her.
Patch. Did ever any Body see such an old Monster!
Enter Charles.
Patch. Oh! Mr. Charles your Affairs and mine are in an ill Posture.