nd, and a very pleasing Look--But then,
_Miranda_--But if she should be cruel--

_Miran._ (_Peeping._) As Ten to One I shall--

Sir _Fran._ Ay, do consider on't, He, he, he, he.

Sir _Geo._ No, I'll do't.

_Patch._ Do't, what, whether you will or no, Madam?

Sir _Geo._ Come to the Point, here's the Gold, sum up the Conditions--

Sir _Fran._ (_Pulling out a Paper_.)

_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Ay for Heaven's sake do, for my Expectation is on
the Rack.

Sir _Fran._ Well at your own Peril be it.

Sir _Geo._ Aye, aye, go on.

Sir _Fran._ _Imprimis_, you are to be admitted into my House in order to
move your Suit to _Miranda_, for the space of Ten Minutes, without Lett
or Molestation, provided I remain in the same Room.

Sir _Geo._ But out of Ear shot--

Sir _Fran._ Well, well, I don't desire to hear what you say, Ha, ha, ha,
in consideration I am to have that Purse and a hundred Guineas.

Sir _Geo._ Take it--
(_Gives him the Purse_.

_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) So, 'tis well it's no worse, I'll fit you both--

Sir _Geo._ And this Agreement is to be perform'd to Day.

Sir _Fran._ Aye, aye, the sooner the better, poor Fool, how _Miranda_
and I shall laugh at him--Well, Sir _George_, Ha, ha, ha, take the last
sound of your Guineas, Ha, ha, ha. (_Chinks 'em_.)
(Exit.

_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Sure he does not know I am _Miranda_.

Sir _Geo._ A very extraordinary Bargain I have made truly, if she should
be really in Love with this old Cuff now--Psha, that's morally
impossible--but then what hopes have I to succeed, I never spoke to
her--

_Miran._ (_Peeping_.) Say you so? Then I am safe.

Sir _Geo._ What tho' my Tongue never spoke, my Eyes said a thousand
Things, and my Hopes flatter'd me hers answer'd 'em. If I'm lucky--if
not, 'tis but a hundred Guineas thrown away.
(__Miranda_ and _Patch_ come forwards._

_Miran._ Upon what Sir _George?_

Sir _Geo._ Ha! my _Incognito_--upon a Woman, Madam.

_Miran._ They are the worst Things you can deal in, and damage the
soonest; your very Breath destroys 'em, and I fear you'll never see your
Return, Sir _George_, Ha, ha!

Sir _Geo._ Were they more brittle than _China_, and drop'd to pieces
with a Touch, every Atom of her I have ventur'd at, if she is but
Mistress of thy Wit, ballances Ten times the Sum--Prithee let me see thy
Face.

_Miran._ By no means, that may spoil your Opinion of my Sense--

Sir _Geo._ Rather confirm it, Madam.

_Patch._ So rob the