Warn. Are you there again, sir? Now, as I have a soul

Sir Mart. Mum, good Warner, I did but forget myself a little; I leave myself wholly to you, and my cousin get but my mistress for me, and claim whatever reward you can desire.

Warn. Hope of reward will diligence beget, Find you the money, and I'll find the wit.

ACT II. SCENE I.

[Exeunt.

Enter Lady DUPE, and Mrs CHRISTIAN.

Chr. It happened, madam, just as you said it would; but was he so concerned for my feigned sickness?

L. Dupe. So much, that Moody and his daughter, our new guests, take notice of the trouble; but the cause was kept too close for strangers to divine.

Chr. Heaven grant he be but deep enough in love, and then

L. Dupe. And then thou shalt distil him into gold, my girl. Yonder he comes, I'll not be seen: you know your lesson, child. [Exit.

Chr. I warrant you.

Enter Lord DARTMOUTH.

Lord. Pretty mistress Christian, how glad am I to meet you thus alone!

Chr. O the father! what will become of me now? Lord. No harm, I warrant you; but why are you so afraid?

Chr. A poor weak innocent creature as I am, heaven of his mercy, how I quake and tremble! I have not yet clawed off your last ill usage, and

now I feel my old fit come again; my ears tingle already, and my back shuts and opens; ay, just so it began before.

Lord. Nay, my sweet mistress, be not so unjust to suspect any new attempt: I am too penitent for my last fault, so soon to sin again. I hope you did not tell it to your aunt.

Chr. The more fool I, I did not.

Lord. You never shall repent your goodness to me; but may not I presume there was some little kindness in it, which moved you to conceal my. crime?

Chr. Methought I would not have mine aunt angry with you, for all this earthly good; but yet I'll never be alone with you again.

Lord. Pretty innocence! let me sit nearer to you: You do not understand what love I bear you. I vow it is so pure, my soul's not sullied with one spot of sin: Were you a sister, or a daughter to me, with a more holy flame I could not burn.

Chr. Nay, now you speak high words; I cannot understand you.

Lord. The business of my life shall be but how to make your fortune, and my care and study to advance and see you settled in the world.

Chr. I humbly thank your lordship.

Lord. Thus I would sacrifice my life and fortunes, and in return you cruelly destroy me.

Chr. I never meant you any harm, not I. Lord. Then what does this white enemy so near me? [Touching her hand gloved.] Sure 'tis your champion, and you arm it thus to bid defiance to me. Chr. Nay, fie, my lord! In faith, you are to blame. [Pulling her hand away. Lord. But I am for fair wars; an enemy must first be searched for privy armour, ere we do engage. [Pulls at her glove. Chr. What does your lordship mean?

Lord. I fear you bear some spells and charms: about you, and, madam, that's against the law of

arms.

Chr. My aunt charged me not to pull off my glove, for fear of sun-burning my hand.

Lord. She did well to keep it from your eyes, but I will thus preserve it. [Hugging her bare hand. Chr. Why do you crush it so? nay, now you hurt me, nay-if you squeeze it ne'er so hardthere's nothing to come out on't-fie-is this loving one-what makes you take your breath so short?

Lord. The devil take me if I can answer her a word; all my senses are quite employed another way. Chr. Ne'er stir, my lord, I must cry out.

Lord. Then I must stop your mouth-this ruby for a kiss-that is but one ruby for another. Chr. This is worse and worse.

Lady within. Why, niece, where are you, niece? Lord. Pox of her old mouldy chops.

Chr. Do you hear, my aunt calls? I shall be hanged for staying with you-let me go, my lord. [Gets from him.

Enter Lady DUPE.

L. Dupe. My lord! heaven bless me, what makes your lordship here?

Lord. I was just wishing for you, madam; your niece and I have been so laughing at the blunt humour of your country-gentleman. I must go pass an hour with him. [Exit LORD.

Chr. You made a little too much haste; I was just exchanging a kiss for a ruby.

L. Dupe. No harm done; it will make him come on the faster: Never full gorge an hawk you mean to fly: The next will be a necklace of pearl, I warrant you.

Chr. But what must I do next?

L. Dupe. Tell him I grew suspicious, and examined you whether he made not love; which you denied. Then tell him how my maids and daughters watch you; so that you tremble when you see his lordship.

Chr. And that your daughters are so envious, that they would raise a false report to ruin me.

L. Dupe. Therefore you desire his lordship, as he loves you, of which you are confident, henceforward to forbear his visits to you.

Chr. But how, if he should take me at my word? L. Dupe. Why, if the worst come to the worst, he leaves you an honest woman, and there's an end on't But fear not that; hold out his messages, and then he'll write, and that is it, my bird, which you must drive it to: Then all his letters will be such ecstasies, such vows and promises, which you must answer short and simply, yet still ply out of them your advantages.

Chr. But, madam! he's in the house, he will not write.

L. Dupe. You fool-he'll write from the next chamber to you; and, rather than fail, send his page post with it, upon a hobby-horse: Then grant a meeting, but tell me of it, and I'll prevent him by my being there; he'll curse me, but I care not. When you are alone, he'll urge his lust, which answer you with scorn and anger.

Chr. As thus an't please you, madam. What! Does he think I will be damın'd for him? Defame my family, ruin my name, to satisfy his pleasure? L. Dupe. Then he will be profane in his arguments, urge nature's laws to you.

Chr. By'r lady, and those are shrewd arguments; but I am resolved I'll stop my ears.

L. Dupe. Then when he sees no other thing will

move you, he'll sign a portion to you beforehand: Take hold of that, and then of what you will.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

Enter Sir JOHN, Mrs MILLISENT, and ROSE.

Sir John. Now, fair Mrs Millisent, you see your chamber; your father will be busy a few minutes, and in the mean time permits me the happiness to

wait on you.

Mill. Methinks you might have chose us better lodgings, this house is full; the other, we saw first, was more convenient.

Sir John. For you, perhaps, but not for me: You might have met a lover there, but I a rival.

Mill. What rival?

Sir John. You know Sir Martin, I need not name it to you.

Mill. I know more men besides him.

Sir John. But you love none besides him: Can you deny your affection to him?

Mill. You have vexed me so, I will not satisfy

you.

Sir John. Then I perceive I am not likely to be so much obliged to you, as I was to him.

Mill. This is romance-I'll not believe a word on't. Sir John. That's as you please: However 'tis believed, his wit will not much credit your choice. Madam, do justice to us both; pay his ingratitude and folly with your scorn; my service with your love. By this time your father stays for me: I shall be discreet enough to keep this fault of yours from him; the lawyers wait for us to draw your jointure; and I would beg your pardon for my absence, but that my crime is punished in itself. [Exit. Mill. Could I suspect this usage from a favoured

servant!