Rose. 'Tis in pursuance of thy own invention, Warner; a child which thy wit hath begot upon me: But let us lose no time. Help! help! dress thy master, that he may be Anthony, old Moody's bastard, and thou his, come from the East Indies.
Sir Mart. Hey-tarock it—now we shall have Rose's device too; I long to be at it, pray let's hear more on it.
Rose. Old Moody, you must know, in his younger years, when he was a Cambridge-scholar, made bold with a townsman's daughter there, by whom he had a bastard, whose name was Anthony, whom you, Sir Martin, are to represent.
Sir Mart. I warrant you; let me alone for Tony: But pray go on, Rose.
Rose. This child, in his father's time, he durst not own, but bred him privately in the isle of Ely, till he was seven years old, and from thence sent him with one Bonaventure, a merchant, for the East Indies.
Warn. But will not this over-burden your memory, sir?
Sir Mart. There's no answering thee any thing; thou thinkest I am good for nothing.
Rose. Bonaventure died at Surat within two years, and this Anthony has lived up and down in the Mogul's country, unheard of by his father till this night, and is expected within these three days: Now if you can pass for him, you may have admittance into the house, and make an end of all the business before the other Anthony arrives.
Warn. But hold, Rose, there's one considerable point omitted; what was his mother's name?
Rose. That indeed I had forgot; her name was Dorothy, daughter to one Draw-water, a vintner at the Rose.