hour, but she passes a pull at my purse-strings; I shall be ruined if I do not quit myself of her suddenly: I find, now, by sad experience, that a mistress is much more chargeable than a wife, and after a little time too, grows full as dull and insignificant.-Mr Warner! have you a mind to do yourself a courtesy, and me another?

Warn. I think, my lord, the question need not be much disputed, for I have always had a great service for your lordship, and some little kindness for myself.

Lord. What if you should propose mistress Christian as a wife to your master? You know he's never like to compass t'other.

Warn. I cannot tell that, my lord.

Lord. Five hundred pounds are yours at the day of marriage.

Warn. Five hundred pounds! 'tis true, the temptation is very sweet and powerful; the devil, I confess, has done his part, and many a good murder and treason have been committed at a cheaper rate; but yet-

Lord. What yet?

Warn. To confess the truth, I am resolved to bestow my master upon that other lady (as difficult as your lordship thinks it), for the honour of my wit is engaged in it: Will it not be the same to your lordship, were she married to any other?

Lord. The very same.

Warn. Come, my lord, not to dissemble with you any longer, I know where it is that your shoe wrings you: I have observed something in the house, betwixt some parties that shall be nameless: And know, that you have been taking up linen at a much dearer rate, than you might have had it in any draper's in town.

Lord. I see I have not danced in a net before you.

Warn. As for that old lady, whom hell confound, she is the greatest jilt in nature; cheat is her study; all her joy to cozen; she loves nothing but herself, and draws all lines to that corrupted centre.

Lord. I have found her out, though late: First, I'll undertake I ne'er enjoyed her niece under the rate of five hundred pounds a-time; never was woman's flesh held up so high: Every night I find out for a new maidenhead, and she has sold it me as often as ever Mother Temple, Bennet, or Gifford, have put off boiled capons for quails and partridges.

Warn. This is nothing to what bills you'll have when she's brought to bed, after her hard bargain, as they call it; then crammed capons, pea-hens, chickens in the grease, pottages, and fricasees, wine from Shatling, and La-fronds, with New River, clearer by sixpence the pound than ever God Almighty made it; then midwife-dry nurse-wet nurseand all the rest of their accomplices, with cradle, baby-clouts, and bearing-clothes-possets, caudles, broths, jellies, and gravies; and behind all these, glisters, suppositers, and a barbarous apothecary's bill, more inhuman than a tailor's.

Lord. I sweat to think on't.

Warn. Well, my lord, cheer up! I have found a way to rid you of it all; within a short time you shall know more; yonder appears a young lady, whom I must needs speak with; please you go in, and prepare the old lady and your mistress.

Lord. Good luck, and five hundred pounds attend thee.

Enter MILLISENT and ROSE above. Mill. I am resolved I'll never marry him.

[Exit.

Rose. So far you are right, madam.

Mill. But how to hinder it, I cannot possibly tell; for my father presses me to it, and will take no denial: Would I knew some way!

Warn. Madam, I'll teach you the very nearest, for I have just now found it out.

Rose. Are you there, Mr Littleplot?

Warn. Studying to deserve thee, Rose, by my diligence for thy lady; I stand here, methinks, just like a wooden Mercury, to point her out the way to matrimony.

Rose. Or, serving-man like, ready to carry up the hot meat for your master, and then to fall upon the cold yourself. Warn. I know not what you call the cold, but I believe I shall find warm work on't: In the first place, then, I must acquaint you, that I have seemingly put off my master, and entered myself into Sir John's service.

Mill. Most excellent!

Warn. And thereupon, but base

Enter MOODY.

Mill. Something he would tell us; but see what luck's here!

Mood. How now, sirrah? Are you so great there already?

Mill. I find my father's jealous of him still. Warn. Sir, I was only teaching my young lady a new song, and if you please you shall hear it.

Mood. Ods bobs, this is very pretty.

Mill. Ay, so is the lady's answer too, if I could but hit on't.

SINGS.

And when the stars twinkle so bright,
Then down to the door will I creep;
Το my love will I fly,

E'er the jealous can spy,

And leave my old daddy asleep.

Mood. Bodikins, I like not that so well, to cozen her old father: it may be my own case another time.

Rose. Oh, madam! yonder's your persecutor returned.

Enter Sir JOHN.

Mill. I'll into my chamber, to avoid the sight of him as long as I can. Lord! that my old doating father should throw me away upon such an ignoramus, and deny me to such a wit as Sir Martin.

[Exeunt MILL. and Rose from above. Mood. O, son! here has been the most villainous tragedy against you.

Sir John. What tragedy? Has there been any blood shed since I went?

Mood. No blood shed: but, as I told you, a most damnable tragedy.

Warn. A tragedy! I'll be hanged if he does not mean a stratagem.

Mood. Jack sauce! if I say it is a tragedy, it shall be a tragedy, in spite of you; teach your grandam how to piss. What! I hope I am old enough to spout English with you, sir.

Sir John. But what was the reason you came not after me?

Mood. 'Twas well I did not; I'll promise you, there were those would have made bold with mistress Bride; and if she had stirred out of doors, there were whipsters abroad, i'faith, padders of maidenheads, that would have trussed her up, and picked the lock of her affections, ere a man could have said, what's this? But, by good luck, I had warning of it by a friend's letter.

Sir John. The remedy for all such dangers is easy; you may send for a parson, and have the business despatched at home.

Mood. A match, i'faith; do you provide a domine, and I'll go tell her our resolutions, and hearten her up against the day of battle.

[Exit. Sir John. Now I think on't, this letter must needs come from Sir Martin; a plot of his, upon my life, to hinder our marriage.

Warn. I see, sir, you'll still mistake him for a wit; but I'm much deceived, if that letter came not from another hand.

Sir John. From whom, I pr'ythee?

Warn. Nay, for that you shall excuse me, sir; I do not love to make a breach between persons, that are to be so near related.

Sir John. Thou seemest to imply, that my mistress was in the plot.

Warn. Can you make a doubt on't? Do you not know she ever loved him, and can you hope she has so soon forsaken him? You may make yourself miserable, if you please, by such a marriage.

Sir John. When she is once mine, her virtue will

secure me.

Warn. Her virtue!

Sir John. What, do you make a mock on't? Warn. Not I; I assure you, sir, I think it no such jesting matter.

Sir John. Why, is she not honest?