Sir _Jeal._ My Lady Love-puppy! then prithee carry thy self to her, for
I know no other Whelp that belongs to her; and let me catch ye no more
Puppy-hunting about my Doors, lest I have you prest into the Service,
Sirrah.

_Whisp._ By no means, Sir--Your humble Servant; I must watch whether he
goes, or no, before I can tell my Master.
(_Exit._

Sir _Jeal._ This Fellow has the Officious Leer of a Pimp; and I half
suspect a Design, but I'll be upon them before they think on me, I
warrant 'em.
(_Exit._


SCENE __Charles_'s Lodging._

_Enter _Charles_ and _Marplot_._

_Char._ Honest _Marplot_, I thank thee for this Supply; I expect my
Lawyer with a Thousand Pound I have order'd him to take up, and then you
shall be Repaid.

_Marpl._ Pho, pho, no more of that: Here comes Sir _George Airy_--

_Enter Sir _George_._

Cursedly out of Humour at his Disappointment; see how he looks! Ha, ha,
ha.