_Sir Mart._ Why should not my brains be as fruitful as yours, or any man's? _Warn._ This is so good, it shall not be your plot, sir; either disown it, or I will proceed no further. _Sir Mart._ I would not lose the credit of my plot, to gain my mistress: The plot's a good one, and I'll justify it upon any ground in England; an you will not work upon't, it shall be done without you. _Rose._ I think the knight has reason. _Warn._ Well, I'll order it however to the best advantage: Hark you, Rose. [_Whispers._ _Sir Mart._ If it miscarry by your ordering, take notice, 'tis your fault; 'tis well invented, I'll take my oath on't. _Rose._ I must into them, for fear I should be suspected; but I'll acquaint my lord, my old lady, and all the rest, who ought to know it, with your design. _Warn._ We'll be with you in a twinkling: You and I, Rose, are to follow our leaders, and be paired to night.---- _Rose._ To have, and to hold, are dreadful words, Warner; but, for your sake, I'll venture on 'em. [_Exeunt._ SCENE III. _Enter Lord, Lady_ DUPE, _and_ CHRISTIAN. _L. Dupe._ Nay! good my lord, be patient. _Lord._ Does he think to give fiddles and treatments in a house, where he has wronged a lady? I'll never suffer it. _L. Dupe._ But upon what ground will you raise your quarrel? _Lord._ A very just one,--as I am her kinsman. _L. Dupe._ He does not know yet why he was to be arrested; try that way again. _Lord._ I'll hear of nothing but revenge. _Enter_ ROSE. _Rose._ Yes, pray hear me one word, my lord; Sir Martin himself has made a plot. _Chr._ That's like to be a good one. _Rose._ A fool's plot may be as lucky as a fool's handsel; 'tis a very likely one, and requires nothing for your part, but to get a parson in the next room; we'll find work for him. _L. Dupe._ That shall be done immediately; Christian, make haste, and send for Mr Ball, the non-conformist; tell him, here are two or three angels to be earned. _Chr._ And two or three possets to be eaten: May I not put in that, madam? _L. Dupe._ Surely you may. [_Exit_ CHR. _Rose._ Then for the rest--'tis only this--Oh! they are here! pray take it in a whisper: My lady knows of it already. _Enter_ MOODY, _Sir_ JOHN, _and Mrs_ MILLISENT. _Mill._ Strike up again, fiddle, I'll have a French dance. _Sir John._ Let's have the brawls. _Mood._ No, good sir John, no quarrelling among friends. _L. Dupe._ Your company is like to be increased, sir; some neighbours, that heard your fiddles, are come a mumming to you. _Mood._ Let them come in, and we'll be jovy; an I had but my hobby-horse at home---- _Sir John._ What, are they men, or women? _L. Dupe._ I believe some 'prentices broke loose.