+Jar.+ And he could but get her down there. +Blood.+ By my troth, we shall pop him fairly. Where is she? where is she? +Jar.+ Ha! do you not perceive a fellow walk up and down muffled yonder? +Blood.+ There is something walks. +Jar.+ That fellow has dogged us all the way, and I fear all is frustrate. +Blood.+ Not, I hope, man. +Mis. Coote.+ This it is to be in love; if I do not dwindle---- +Jar.+ I know him now. +Blood.+ 'Tis none of Sir Nicholas' spies, is't? +Jar.+ He serves him. +Blood.+ He wonnot murder me, will he? +Jar.+ He shall not touch you: only, I remember, this afternoon this fellow, by what he had gathered by eavesdropping, or by frequent observation, asked me privately if there were no meeting betwixt you and my mistress to-night in this place, for a widow, he said, he knew you were to meet. +Blood.+ Good. +Jar.+ Now I handsomely threw dust in's eyes, and yet kept the plot swift afoot too. I told him you were here to meet a widow too, whom you long loved, but would not let her know't till this afternoon, naming to him one of my aunts[90], a widow by Fleet-ditch. Her name is Mistress Gray, and keeps divers gentlewomen lodgers. +Blood.+ Good again. +Jar.+ To turn the scent then, and to cheat inquisition the more ingeniously---- +Blood.+ And to bob Sir Nicholas most neatly. +Jar.+ Be sure, all this night, in the hearing of any that you shall but suspect to be within hearing, to call her nothing but Mistress Coote. +Blood.+ Or Widow Coote. +Jar.+ Yes, you may put her in so; but be sure you cohere in every particle with the precedent fallacy, as that you have loved her long, though till this day--and so as I did demonstrate. +Blood.+ But how an' she should say she is not Widow Coote, and that she knows no such woman, and so spoil all? +Jar.+ Trust that with her wit and my instructions. We suspected a spy, and therefore she will change her voice. +Blood.+ Thou hast a delicate mistress of her. +Jar.+ One thing more, and you meet presently. Mine aunt has had nine husbands; tell her you'll hazard a limb, and make the tenth. +Blood.+ Prythee, let me alone; and Sir Nicholas were here himself, he should swear 'twere thine aunt. +Jar.+ [_To +Mistress Coote+._] Go forwards towards him; be not too full of prattle, but make use of your instructions. +Blood.+ Who's there? Widow Coote? +Mis. Coote.+ Master Bloodhound, as I take it. +Blood.+ She changes her voice bravely. I must tell thee, true widow, I have loved thee a long time (look how the rogue looks!), but had never the wit to let thee know it till to-day. +Mis. Coote.+ So I was given to understand, sir. +Jar.+ Is't not a fool finely? [_Aside._ +John.+ Handsome, by this hand.