CLEVELAND. Rose has a girl in attendance upon her who is near her size and figure—a mischievous wench, or I am no judge of physiognomies.
METCALF. [Who has been listening, aside.] Oho! [Exits hurriedly and secretly.
ARBALD. Bridget, they call her.
CLEVELAND. Send her to me. Fifty pounds will be more than her fidelity can stand. Luckily we have the Chaplain with us. Have him ready.
ARBALD. I'll hunt Bridget up at once.
[Exit ARBALD.
CLEVELAND. The plan is a good one. Now, Lady Wit, those who win may laugh. But I was a blind fool ever to allow her to obtain that promise from me.
Enter METCALF.
METCALF. Hist! Major Cleveland.
CLEVELAND. Well, good fellow.