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 Martinlaughing.
Sir Mart. Warner, such a jest, Warner!
[Laughs again.
Warn. What a murrain is the matter, sir? Where lies this jest that tickles you?