Jar. Phaw! that's a stale one: she shall speak to him in her own accent; he shall call her by her own name, leaving out the bawd, yet she shall violently believe he loves her, and he shall confidently believe the same which he requires, and she but presents. Fall off; she comes.
Enter Mistress Coote.
Mis. Coote. Jarvis!
Jar. Here I have discovered him; 'tis he, by his coughs. Remember your instructions, and use few words; say, though till night you knew it not, you will be married early in the morning, to prevent a vintner's widow that lays claim to him.
Blood. Jarvis!
Jar. Good old man, I know him by his tongue.
Blood. Is she come? Is she come, Jarvis?
Jar. Ask her if she would live, sir. She walks aloof yonder.
Blood. We shall cosen all her wooers.
Jar. Nay, amongst all of you, we'll cosen one great one, that had laid a pernicious plot this night, with a cluster of his roaring friends, to surprise her, carry her down to the waterside, pop her in at Puddle-dock,[89] and carry her to Gravesend in a pair of oars.