_Sir Mart._ Why, how now, bully, in a brown study? For my good, I warrant it; there's five shillings for thee. What! we must encourage good wits sometimes. _Warn._ Hang your white pelf: Sure, sir, by your largess, you mistake me for Martin Parker, the ballad-maker; your covetousness has offended my muse, and quite dulled her. _Sir Mart._ How angry the poor devil is! In fine, thou art as choleric as a cook by a fireside. _Warn._ I am overheated, like a gun, with continual discharging my wit: 'Slife, sir, I have rarified my brains for you, 'till they are evaporated; but come, sir, do something for yourself like a man: I have engaged you shall give to your mistress a serenade in your proper person: I'll borrow a lute for you. _Sir Mart._ I'll warrant thee I'll do't, man. _Warn._ You never learned: I do not think you know one stop. _Sir Mart._ 'Tis no matter for that, sir; I'll play as fast as I can, and never stop at all. _Warn._ Go to, you are an invincible fool, I see. Get up into your window, and set two candles by you; take my landlord's lute in your hand, and fumble on it, and make grimaces with your mouth, as if you sung; in the mean time, I'll play in the next room in the dark, and consequently your mistress, who will come to her balcony over against you, will think it to be you; and at the end of every tune, I'll ring the bell that hangs between your chamber and mine, that you may know when to have done. _Sir Mart._ Why, this is fair play now, to tell a man beforehand what he must do; gramercy, i'faith, boy, now if I fail thee---- _Warn._ About your business, then, your mistress and her maid appear already: I'll give you the sign with the bell when I am prepared, for my lute is at hand in the barber's shop. [_Exeunt._ _Enter Mrs_ MILLISENT, _and_ ROSE, _with a candle by them, above._ _Rose._ We shall have rare music. _Mill._ I wish it prove so; for I suspect the knight can neither play nor sing. _Rose._ But if he does, you are bound to pay the music, madam. _Mill._ I'll not believe it, except both my ears and eyes are witnesses. _Rose._ But 'tis night, madam, and you cannot see him; yet he may play admirably in the dark. _Mill._ Where's my father? _Rose._ You need not fear him, he's still employed with that same seaman; and I have set Mrs Christian to watch their discourse, that, betwixt her and me, Warner may have wherewithal to instruct his master. _Mill._ But yet there's fear my father will find out the plot. _Rose._ Not in the least; for my old lady has provided two rare disguises for the master and the man. _Mill._ Peace, I hear them beginning to tune the lute.