_Mess._ I have a letter to deliver to him. _Warn._ Here he comes, you may deliver it yourself to him. _Enter_ MOODY. _Mess._ Sir, a gentleman met me at the corner of the next street, and bid me give this into your own hands. _Mood._ Stay, friend, till I have read it. _Mess._ He told me, sir, it required no answer. [_Exit Mess._ Mood. reads. _Sir, permit me, though a stranger, to give you counsel; some young gallants have had intelligence, that this day you intend privately to marry your daughter, the rich heiress; and, in fine, above twenty of them have dispersed themselves to watch her going out: Therefore, put it off, if you will avoid mischief, and be advised by_ _Your unknown servant._ _Mood._ By the mackings, I thought there was no good in't, when I saw _in fine_ there; there are some Papishes, I'll warrant, that lie in wait for my daughter; or else they are no Englishmen, but some of your French Outalian-rogues; I owe him thanks, however, this unknown friend of mine, that told me on't. Warner, no wedding to-day, Warner. _Warn._ Why, what's the matter, sir? _Mood._ I say no more, but some wiser than some; I'll keep my daughter at home this afternoon, and a fig for all these Outalians. [_Exit_ MOODY. _Warn._ So, here's another trick of fortune, as unexpected for bad, as the other was for good. Nothing vexes me, but that I had made my game cock-sure, and then to be back-gammoned: It must needs be the devil that writ this letter; he owed my master a spite, and has paid him to the purpose: And here he comes as merry too! he little thinks what misfortune has befallen him; and, for my part, I am ashamed to tell him. _Enter Sir_ MARTIN _laughing_. _Sir Mart._ Warner, such a jest, Warner! [_Laughs again._ _Warn._ What a murrain is the matter, sir? Where lies this jest that tickles you? _Sir Mart._ Let me laugh out my laugh, and I'll tell thee. [_Laughs again._ _Warn._ I wish you may have cause for all this mirth. _Sir Mart._ Hereafter, Warner, be it known unto thee, I will endure no more to be thy May-game: Thou shalt no more dare to tell me, I spoil thy projects, and discover thy designs; for I have played such a prize, without thy help, of my own mother-wit, ('tis true I am hasty sometimes, and so do harm; but when I have a mind to shew myself, there's no man in England, though I say't, comes near me as to point of imagination) I'll make thee acknowledge I have laid a plot that has a soul in't. _Warn._ Pray, sir, keep me no longer in ignorance of this rare invention. _Sir Mart._ Know then, Warner, that, when I left thee, I was possessed with a terrible fear, that my mistress should be married: Well, thought I to myself,--and mustering up all the forces of my wit, I did produce such a stratagem!