_Tru._ It is an ingenious, pious penitence in you; my Lord Hardy (to whom this secret is inestimable) is a noble-natured man, and you shall find him such, I give you my word. _Cab._ I know, sir, your integrity. _Tru._ But pray be there; all that you have to do is to ask for the gentlewoman at the house at my Lord Hardy's; she'll take care of you. And pray have patience, where she places you, till you see me. [_Exit_ CAB.] My Lord Hardy's being a house where they receive lodgers, has allowed me convenience to place everybody I think necessary to be by at her discovery. This prodigious welcome secret! I see, however impracticable honest actions may appear, we may go on with just hope-- All that is ours is to be justly bent, And Heaven in its own cause will bless the event. [_Exit._ SCENE II.--_Covent Garden._ _Enter_ TRIM _and his party._ _Trim._ March up, march up. Now we are near the citadel, and halt only to give the necessary orders for the engagement. Ha! Clump, Clump! When we come to Lord Brumpton's door, and you see us conveniently disposed about the house, you are to wait till you see a corpse brought out of the house; then to go up to him you observe the director, and ask importunately for an alms to a poor soldier, for which you may be sure you shall have a good blow or two; but if you have not, be saucy till you have. Then when you see a file of men got between the house and the body--a file of men, Bumpkin, is six men--I say, when you see the file in such a posture, that half the file may face to the house, half to the body, you are to fall down, crying murder, that the half file faced to the body may throw it and themselves over you. I then march to your rescue. Then, Swagger, you and your party fall in to secure my rear, while I march off with the body. These are the orders; and this, with a little improvement of my own, is the same disposition Villeroy and Catinat made at Chiari. [_Marches off with his party._ SCENE III.--LORD BRUMPTON'S _House._ _Enter_ Widow, _in deep mourning, with a dead squirrel on her arm, and_ TATTLEAID. _Wid._ It must be so; it must be your carelessness. What had the page to do in my bedchamber? _Tat._ Indeed, madam, I can't tell. But I came in and catched him wringing round his neck---- _Wid._ Tell the rascal from me he shall romp with the footmen no more. No; I'll send the rogue in a frock to learn Latin among the dirty boys that come to good, I will. But 'tis ever so among these creatures that live on one's superfluous affections; a lady's woman, page, and squirrel are always rivals.