_Patch._ I have thought on't: Run you to your Chamber, Madam; and Sir,
come you along with me, I'm certain you may easily get down from the
Balcone.

_Char._ My Life, _Adieu_--Lead on, Guide.
(_Exit._

_Isab._ Heaven preserve him.
(_Exit._


SCENE Changes to the Street.

_Enter Sir _Jealous_, with _Marplot_ behind him_._

Sir _Jeal._ I don't know what's the matter; but I have a strong
Suspicion, all is not right within; that Fellow's sauntring about my
Door, and his Tale of a Puppy, had the Face of a Lye, methought. By St.
_Jago_, if I shou'd find a Man in the House, I'd make Mince-Meat of
him--

_Marpl._ Ah, poor _Charles_--ha? Agad he is old--I fancy I might bully
him, and make _Charles_ have an Opinion of my Courage.

Sir _Jeal._ My own Key shall let me in; I'll give them no Warning.
(_Feeling for his Key._

_Marpl._ What's that you say, Sir. (_Going up to Sir _Jealous_._