_L. Dupe._ When I heard Sir John complain of the landlord, I took the first hint of it, and joined with him, saying, if he were such an one, I would have nothing to do with him: In short, I rattled him so well, that Sir John was the first who did desire they might be lodged with me, not knowing that I was your kinswoman. _Sir Mart._ Pox on't, now I think on't, I could have found out this myself. _Warn._ Are you there again, sir? Now, as I have a soul---- _Sir Mart._ Mum, good Warner, I did but forget myself a little; I leave myself wholly to you, and my cousin: get but my mistress for me, and claim whatever reward you can desire. _Warn._ Hope of reward will diligence beget, Find you the money, and I'll find the wit. [_Exeunt._ ACT II. SCENE I. _Enter Lady_ DUPE, _and Mrs_ CHRISTIAN. _Chr._ It happened, madam, just as you said it would; but was he so concerned for my feigned sickness? _L. Dupe._ So much, that Moody and his daughter, our new guests, take notice of the trouble; but the cause was kept too close for strangers to divine. _Chr._ Heaven grant he be but deep enough in love, and then---- _L. Dupe._ And then thou shalt distil him into gold, my girl. Yonder he comes, I'll not be seen: you know your lesson, child. [_Exit._ _Chr._ I warrant you. _Enter Lord_ DARTMOUTH. _Lord._ Pretty mistress Christian, how glad am I to meet you thus alone! _Chr._ O the father! what will become of me now? _Lord._ No harm, I warrant you; but why are you so afraid? _Chr._ A poor weak innocent creature as I am, heaven of his mercy, how I quake and tremble! I have not yet clawed off your last ill usage, and now I feel my old fit come again; my ears tingle already, and my back shuts and opens; ay, just so it began before. _Lord._ Nay, my sweet mistress, be not so unjust to suspect any new attempt: I am too penitent for my last fault, so soon to sin again. I hope you did not tell it to your aunt. _Chr._ The more fool I, I did not. _Lord._ You never shall repent your goodness to me; but may not I presume there was some little kindness in it, which moved you to conceal my crime? _Chr._ Methought I would not have mine aunt angry with you, for all this earthly good; but yet I'll never be alone with you again. _Lord._ Pretty innocence! let me sit nearer to you: You do not understand what love I bear you. I vow it is so pure, my soul's not sullied with one spot of sin: Were you a sister, or a daughter to me, with a more holy flame I could not burn. _Chr._ Nay, now you speak high words; I cannot understand you. _Lord._ The business of my life shall be but how to make your fortune, and my care and study to advance and see you settled in the world. _Chr._ I humbly thank your lordship. _Lord._ Thus I would sacrifice my life and fortunes, and in return you cruelly destroy me. _Chr._ I never meant you any harm, not I.