Warn. That is, from India to Persia, from Persia to Turkey, from Turkey to Germany, from Germany to France.

Sir John. And from thence, over the narrow seas on horse-back.

Mood. 'Tis so, I discern it now; but some shall smoke for it. Stay a little, Anthony, I'll be with you presently.

[Exit MOOD. Warn. That wicked old man is gone for no good, I'm afraid; would I were fairly quit of him. [Aside. Mill. aside.] Tell me no more of Sir Martin, Rose; he wants natural sense, to talk after this rate: but for this Warner, I am strangely taken with him ; how handsomely he brought him off!

Enter MOODY, with two cudgels.

Mood. Among half a score tough cudgels I had in my chamber, I have made choice of these two, as best able to hold out.

Mill. Alas! poor Warner must be beaten now, for all his wit; would I could bear it for him! Warn. But to what end is all this preparation, sir?

Mood. In the first place, for your worship, and in the next, for this East-India apostle, that will needs be my son Anthony.

Warn. Why, d'ye think he is not?

Mood. No, thou wicked accomplice in his designs, I know he is not.

Warn. Who, I his accomplice? I beseech you, sir, what is it to me, if he should prove a counterfeit? I assure you he has cozened me in the first place.

Sir John. That's likely, i'faith, cozen his own servant!

Warn. As I hope for mercy, sir, I am an utter

stranger to him; he took me up but yesterday, and told me the story, word for word, as he told it you.

Sir Mart. What will become of us two now? I trust to the rogue's wit to bring me off.

Mood. If thou wouldst have me believe thee, take one of these two cudgels, and help me to lay it on soundly.

Warn. With all my heart.

Mood. Out, you cheat, you hypocrite, you impostor! Do you come hither to cozen an honest [Beats him.

man?

Sir Mart. Hold, hold, sir!

Warn. Do you come hither, with a lye, to get a father, Mr Anthony of East India?

Sir Mart. Hold, you inhuman butcher!

Warn. I'll teach you to counterfeit again, sir.
Sir Mart. The rogue will murder me.

[Exit Sir MARt.

Mood. A fair riddance of 'em both: Let's in and

laugh at 'em.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

Enter again Sir MARTIN and WARNER.

Sir Mart. Was there ever such an affront put upon a man, to be beaten by his servant?

Warn. After my hearty salutations upon your backside, sir, may a man have leave to ask you, what news from the Mogul's country?

Sir Mart. I wonder where thou hadst the impudence to move such a question to me, knowing how thou hast used me.

Warn. Now, sir, you may see what comes of your indiscretion and stupidity: I always give you warning of it; but, for this time, I am content to pass it without more words, partly, because I have

already corrected deserve.

you, though not so much as you

Sir Mart. Do'st thou think to carry it off at this rate, after such an injury?

Warn. You may thank yourself for't; nay, 'twas very well I found out that way, otherwise I had been suspected as your accomplice.

Sir Mart. But you laid it on with such a vengeance, as if you were beating of a stock-fish.

if

Warn. To confess the truth on't, you had angered me, and I was willing to evaporate my choler; you will pass it by so, I may chance to help you to your mistress: No more words of this business, I advise you, but go home and grease your back.

Sir Mart. In fine, I must suffer it at his hands: for if my shoulders had not paid for this fault, my purse must have sweat blood for't: The rogue has got such a hank upon me

Warn. So, so! here's another of our vessels come in, after the storm that parted us.

Enter ROSE.

What comfort, Rose? no harbour near?

Rose. My lady, as you may well imagine, is most extremely incensed against Sir Martin; but she applauds your ingenuity to the skies. I'll say no more, but thereby hangs a tale.

Sir Mart. I am considering with myself about a plot, to bring all about again.

Rose. Yet again plotting! if you have such a mind to't, I know no way so proper for you, as to turn poet to Pugenello.

Warn. Hark! is not that music in your house? [Music plays. Rose. Yes, Sir John has given my mistress the fiddles, and our old man is as jocund yonder, and

does so hug himself, to think how he has been revenged upon you!

Warn. Why, he does not know 'twas me, I hope?

Rose. "Tis all one for that.

Sir Mart. I have such a plot!-I care not, I will speak, an I were to be hanged for't. Shall I speak, dear Warner? let me now; it does so wamble within me, just like a clyster, i̇'faith la, and I can keep it no longer, for my heart.

Warn. Well, I am indulgent to you; out with it boldly, in the name of nonsense.

Sir Mart. We two will put on vizards, and with the help of my landlord, who shall be of the party, go a mumming there, and by some device of dan"cing, get my mistress away, unsuspected by them

all.

Rose. What if this should hit now, when all your projects have failed, Warner?

Warn. Would I were hanged, if it be not somewhat probable: Nay, now I consider better on't— exceedingly probable; it must take, 'tis not in nature to be avoided.

Sir Mart. O must it so, sir! and who may you thank for't?

Warn. Now am I so mad he should be the author of this device! How the deyil, sir, came you to stumble on't?

Sir Mart. Why should not my brains be as fruitful as yours, or any man's?

Warn. This is so good, it shall not be your plot, sir; either disown it, or I will proceed no further.

Sir Mart. I would not lose the credit of my plot, to gain my mistress: The plot's a good one, and I'll justify it upon any ground in England; an you will not work upon't, it shall be done without

you.

Rose. I think the knight has reason. Warn. Well, I'll order it however to the best advantage: Hark you, Rose. [Whispers. Sir Mart. If it miscarry by your ordering, take notice, 'tis your fault; 'tis well invented, I'll take my oath on't.

Rose. I must into them, for fear I should be suspected; but I'll acquaint my lord, my old lady, and all the rest, who ought to know it, with your design.

Warn. We'll be with you in a twinkling: You. and I, Rose, are to follow our leaders, and be paired to night.

Rose. To have, and to hold, are dreadful words, Warner; but, for your sake, I'll venture on 'em.

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

Enter Lord, Lady DUPE, and CHRISTIAN.

L. Dupe. Nay! good my lord, be patient.

Lord. Does he think to give fiddles and treatments in a house, where he has wronged a lady? I'll never suffer it.

L. Dupe. But upon what ground will you raise your quarrel?

Lord. A very just one,-as I am her kinsman. L. Dupe. He does not know yet why he was to be arrested; try that way again.

Lord. I'll hear of nothing but revenge.

Enter ROSE.

Rose. Yes, pray hear me one word, my lord; Sir Martin himself has made a plot.

Chr. That's like to be a good one.

Rose. A fool's plot may be as lucky as a fool's handsel; 'tis a very likely one, and requires no