Sir Mart. Let me laugh out my laugh, and I'll tell thee.
[Laughs again.
Warn. I wish you may have cause for all this mirth.
Sir Mart. Hereafter, Warner, be it known unto thee, I will endure no more to be thy May-game: Thou shalt no more dare to tell me, I spoil thy projects, and discover thy designs; for I have played such a prize, without thy help, of my own mother-wit, ('tis true I am hasty sometimes, and so do harm; but when I have a mind to shew myself, there's no man in England, though I say't, comes near me as to point of imagination) I'll make thee acknowledge I have laid a plot that has a soul in't.
Warn. Pray, sir, keep me no longer in ignorance of this rare invention.
Sir Mart. Know then, Warner, that, when I left thee, I was possessed with a terrible fear, that my mistress should be married: Well, thought I to myself,—and mustering up all the forces of my wit, I did produce such a stratagem!
Warn. But what was it?
Sir Mart. I feigned a letter as from an unknown friend to Moody, wherein I gave him to understand, that if his daughter went out this afternoon, she would infallibly be snapped by some young fellows that lay in wait for her.
Warn. Very good.
Sir Mart. That which follows is yet better; for he I sent assures me, that in that very nick of time my letter came, her father was just sending her abroad with a very foolish rascally fellow, that was with him.