Warn. Get you gone without replying: must such as you be prating?

Enter ROSE.

[Beats him out.

Rose. Sir, dinner waits you on the table.

Sir John. Friend, will you go along, and take part of a bad repast?

Sir Mart. Thank you; but I am just risen from table.

1

Warn. Now he might sit with his mistress, and has not the wit to find it out.

Sir John. You shall be very welcome.

Sir Mart. I have no stomach, sir.

Warn. Get you in with a vengeance: You have a better stomach than you think you have.

[Pushes him. Sir Mart. This hungry Diego rogue would shame me; he thinks a gentleman can eat like a serving

man.

Sir John. If you will not, adieu, dear sir; in any thing command me.

[Exit. Sir Mart. Now we are alone: han't I carried matters bravely, sirrah?

Warn. O yes, yes, you deserve sugar-plums; first for your quarrelling with Sir John; then for discovering your landlord; and, lastly, for refusing to dine with your mistress. All this is since the last reckoning was wiped out.

Sir Mart. Then why did my landlord disguise himself, to make a fool of us?

Warn. You have so little brains, that a pennyworth of butter, melted under 'em, would set 'em afloat: He put on that disguise, to rid you of your rival.

Sir Mart. Why was not I worthy to keep your counsel then?

Warn. It had been much at one: You would but

have drunk the secret down, and pissed it out to the next company.

Sir Mart. Well, I find I am a miserable man: I have lost my mistress, and may thank myself for it.

Warn. You'll not confess you are a fool, I war

rant.

Sir Mart. Well, I am a fool, if that will satisfy you: But what am I the nearer, for being one?

Warn. O yes, much the nearer; for now fortune's bound to provide for you; as hospitals are built for lame people, because they cannot help themselves. Well; I have a project in my pate.

Sir Mart. Dear rogue, what is't?

Warn. Excuse me for that: But while 'tis set a working, you would do well to screw yourself into her father's good opinion.

me,

Sir Mart. If you will not tell me, my mind gives I shall discover it again.

Warn. I'll lay it as far out of your reach as I can possibly.

For secrets are edged tools,

And must be kept from children and from fools.

[Exeunt

ACT III. SCENE I.

Enter Rose and WARNER meeting.

Rose. Your worship's most happily encountered. Warn. Your ladyship's most fortunately met. Rose. I was going to your lodging.

Warn. My business was to yours.

Rose. I have something to say to you that-
Warn. I have that to tell you

Rose. Understand then

Warn. If you'll hear me

Rose. I believe that

Warn. I am of opinion, that

Rose. Pry'thee hold thy peace a little, till I have done.

Warn. Cry you mercy, Mrs Rose; I'll not dispute your ancient privilege of talking.

Rose. My mistress, knowing Sir John was to be abroad upon business this afternoon, has asked leave to see a play: And Sir John has so great a confidence of your master, that he will trust no body with her, but him.

Warn. If my master gets her out, I warrant her, he shall shew her a better play than any is at either of the houses-here they are: I'll run and prepare him to wait upon her.

[Exit. Enter old MOODY, Mrs MILLISENT, and Lady DUPE.

Mill. My hoods and scarfs there, quickly.
L. Dupe. Send to call a coach there.

Mood. But what kind of man is this Sir Martin, with whom you are to go?

L. Dupe. A plain down-right country-gentleman, I assure you.

Mood. I like him much the better for it. For I hate one of those you call a man of the town, one of those empty fellows of mere out-side: They have nothing of the true old English manliness.

Rose. I confess, sir, a woman's in a bad condition, that has nothing to trust to, but a peruke above, and a well-trimmed shoe below.

To them Sir MARTIN.

Mill. This, sir, is Sir John's friend; he is for your humour, sir; he is no man of the town, but bred up in the old Elizabeth way of plainness.

Sir Mart. Ay, madam, your ladyship may say your pleasure of me.

To them WARNER.

Warn. How the devil got he here before me! 'Tis very unlucky I could not see him first.

Sir Mart. But, as for painting, music, poetry, and the like, I'll say this of myself

Warn. I'll say that for him, my master understands none of them, I assure you, sir.

Sir Mart. You impudent rascal, hold your tongue : I must rid my hands of this fellow; the rogue is ever discrediting me before company.

Mood. Never trouble yourself about it, sir, for I like a man that

Sir Mart. I know you do, sir, and therefore I hope you'll think never the worse of me for his prating: For, though I do not boast of my own good parts

Warn. He has none to boast of, upon my faith, sir.

Sir Mart. Give him not the hearing, sir; for, if I may believe my friends, they have flattered me with an opinion of more

Warn. Of more than their flattery can make good, sir; 'tis true he tells you, they have flattered him; but, in my conscience, he is the most downright simple-natured creature in the world.

Sir Mart. I shall consider you hereafter, sirrah; but I am sure in all companies I pass for a vir

tuoso.

Mood. Virtuoso! What's that too? is not virtue enough without O so?

Sir Mart. You have reason, sir.

Mood. There he is again too; the town phrase; a great compliment I wis! you have reason, sir that is, you are no beast, sir.

Warn. A word in private, sir; you mistake this old man; he loves neither painting, music, nor poetry; yet recover yourself, if you have any brains. [Aside to him.

Sir Mart. Say you so? I'll bring all about again, I warrant you. I beg your pardon a thousand times, sir; I vow to gad. I am not master of any of those perfections; for, in fine, sir, I am wholly ignorant of painting, music, and poetry; only some rude escapes; but, in fine, they are such, that, in fine, sir

Warn. This is worse than all the rest. [Aside.

Mood. By coxbones, one word more of all this gibberish, and old Madge shall fly about your ears: What is this, in fine, he keeps such a coil with too?

Mill. 'Tis a phrase a-la-mode, sir; and is used in conversation now, as a whiff of tobacco was formerly in the midst of a discourse for a thinking while. L. Dupe. In plain English, in fine is, in the end,

sir.

Mood. But, by coxbones, there is no end on't, methinks: If thou wilt have a foolish word to lard thy lean discourse with, take an English one when thou speakest English! as, so sir, and then sir, and so forth; 'tis a more manly kind of nonsense: And a pox of, in fine, for I'll hear no more on't.

Warn. He's gravelled, and I must help him out. [Aside.] Madam, there's a coach at the door, to carry you to the play.

Sir Mart. Which house do you mean to go to? Mill. The Duke's, I think.

Sir Mart. It is a damn'd play, and has nothing

in't.

Mill. Then let us to the king's.

Sir Mart. That's e'en as bad.

Warn. This is past enduring. [Aside.] There was an ill play set up, sir, on the posts; but I can assure