Rose. Old Moody, you must know, in his younger years, when he was a Cambridge-scholar, made bold with a townsman's daughter there, by whom he had a bastard, whose name was Anthony, whom you, Sir Martin, are to represent.

Sir Mart. I warrant you; let me alone for Tony: But pray go on, Rose.

Rose. This child, in his father's time, he durst not own, but bred him privately in the isle of Ely, till he was seven years old, and from thence sent him with one Bonaventure, a merchant, for the East Indies.

Warn. But will not this over-burden your memory, sir?

Sir Mart. There's no answering thee thou thinkest I am good for nothing.

any thing;

Rose. Bonaventure died at Surat within two years, and this Anthony has lived up and down in the Mogul's country, unheard of by his father till this night, and is expected within these three days: Now if you can pass for him, you may have admittance into the house, and make an end of all the business before the other Anthony arrives.

Warn. But hold, Rose, there's one considerable point omitted; what was his mother's name?

Rose. That indeed I had forgot; her name was Dorothy, daughter to one Draw-water, a vintner at the Rose.

Warn. Come, sir, are you perfect in your lesson? Anthony Moody, born in Cambridge, bred in the isle of Ely, sent into the Mogul's country at seven years old, with one Bonaventure, a merchant, who died within two years; your mother's name Dorothy Draw-water, the vintner's daughter at the Rose.

Sir Mart. I have it all ad unguem-what! do'st think I'm a sot? But stay a little,how have I lived all this while in that same country?

Warn. What country?-Pox, he has forgot already!

Rose. The Mogul's country.

Sir Mart. Ay, ay, the Mogul's country. What the devil, any man may mistake a little; but now I have it perfect: But what have I been doing all this while in the Mogul's country?—He's a heathen rogue, I am afraid I shall never hit upon his name. Warn. Why, you have been passing your time there no matter how.

Rose. Well, if this passes upon the old man, I'll bring your business about again with my mistress, never fear it; stay you here at the door, I'll go tell the old man of your arrival.

Warn. Well, sir, now play your part exactly, and I'll forgive all your former errors.

Sir Mart. Hang them, they were only slips of youth. How peremptory and domineering this rogue is, now he sees I have need of his service! Would I were out of his power again, I would make him lie at my feet like any spaniel.

Enter MOODY, Sir JOHN, Lord, Lady DUPE,

MILLISENT, CHRISTIAN, and ROSE.

Mood. Is he here already, say'st thou? Which is he?

Rose. That sun-burned gentleman.

Mood. My dear boy, Anthony, do I see thee again before I die? Welcome, welcome.

Sir Mart. My dear father, I know it is you by instinct; for, methinks, I am as like you, as if I were spit out of your mouth.

Rose. Keep it up, I beseech your lordship.

[Aside to the Lord.

Lord. He's wonderous like indeed.

L. Dupe. The very image of him.

Mood. Anthony, you must salute all this com

pany: This is my Lord Dartmouth, this my Lady Dupe, this her niece Mrs Christian.

[He salutes them. Sir Mart. And that's my sister; methinks I have a good resemblance of her too: Honest sister, I must needs kiss you, sister.

Warn. This fool will discover himself; I foresee it already by his carriage to her.

Mood. And now, Anthony, pray tell us a little of your travels.

Sir Mart. Time enough for that, forsooth, father; but I have such a natural affection for my sister, that, methinks, I could live and die with her: Give me thy hand, sweet sister.

Sir John. She's beholden to you, sir.

Sir Mart. What if she be, sir? what's that to you, sir?

Sir John. I hope, sir, I have not offended you? Sir Mart. It may be you have, and it may be you have not, sir; you see I have no mind to satisfy you, sir: What a devil! a man cannot talk a little to his own flesh and blood, but you must be interposing, with a murrain to you.

Mood. Enough of this, good Anthony; this gentleman is to marry your sister.

Sir Mart. He marry my sister! Ods foot, sir, there are some bastards, that shall be nameless, that are as well worthy to marry her, as any man; and have as good blood in their veins.

Sir John. I do not question it in the least, sir.

Sir Mart, 'Tis not your best course, sir; you marry my sister! what have you seen of the world, sir? I have seen your hurricanos, and your calentures, and your ecliptics, and your tropic lines, sir, an you go to that, sir.

Warn. You must excuse my master; the sea's a little working in his brain, sir.

Sir Mart. And your Prester Johns of the East Indies, and your great Turk of Rome and Persia.

Mood. Lord, what a thing it is to be learned, and a traveller! Bodikin, it makes me weep for joy; but, Anthony, you must not bear yourself too much upon your learning, child.

Mill. Pray, brother, be civil to this gentleman for my sake.

Sir Mart. For your sake, sister Millisent, much may be done, and here I kiss your hand on it. Warn. Yet again, stupidity?

Mill. Nay, pray, brother, hands off; now you are

too rude.

Sir Mart. Dear sister, as I am a true East India gentleman

Mood. But pray, son Anthony, let us talk of other matters; and tell me truly, had you not quite forgot me? And yet I made woundy much of you, when you were young.

Sir Mart. I remember you as well as if I saw you but yesterday: A fine grey-headed-grey-bearded old gentleman, as ever I saw in all my life. Warn. aside.] Grey-bearded old gentleman! when he was a scholar at Cambridge!

Mood. But do you remember where you were bred up?

Sir Mart. O yes, sir, most perfectly, in the isle -stay-let me see, oh-now I have it-in the isle of Scilly.

Mood. In the Isle of Ely, sure you mean?

Warn. Without doubt, he did, sir; but this damn'd isle of Scilly runs in his head, ever since his sea voyage.

Mood. And your mother's name was-come, pray let me examine you-for that, I'm sure, you cannot forget.

Sir Mart. Warner! what was it, Warner? [Aside.

Warn. Poor Mrs Dorothy Draw-water, if she were now alive, what a joyful day would this be to her!

Mood. Who the devil bid you speak, sirrah?

Sir Mart. Her name, sir, was Mrs Dorothy Draw

water.

Sir John. I'll be hanged if this be not some cheat. Mill. He makes so many stumbles, he must needs fall at last.

Mood. But you remember, I hope, where you were born?

Warn. Well, they may talk what they will of Oxford for an university, but Cambridge for my

money.

Mood. Hold your tongue, you scanderbag rogue you; this is the second time you have been talking when you should not.

Sir Mart. I was born at Cambridge; I remember it as perfectly as if it were but yesterday.

Warn. How I sweat for him! he's remembering ever since he was born.

Mood. And who did you go over with to the East-Indies?

Sir Mart. Warner!

[Aside

Warn. 'Twas a happy thing, sir, you lighted upon so honest a merchant as Mr Bonaventure, to take care of him.

Mood. Saucy rascal! This is past all sufferance. Rose. We are undone, Warner, if this discourse go on any further.

Lord. Pray, sir, take pity on the poor gentleman; he has more need of a good supper, than to be asked so many questions.

Sir John. These are rogues, sir, I plainly perceive it; pray let me ask him one question-Which way did you come home, sir?

Sir Mart. We came home by land, sir.