Sir Sim. Nay, I must not discover myself to Ranger for a kick or two. Oh, pray hold, sir: by that you will know me. [Delivers him a letter.
Dap. How, Sir Simon!
Sir Sim. Mum, mum, make no excuses, man; I would not Ranger should have known me for five hundred—kicks.
Dap. Your disguise is so natural, I protest, it will excuse me.
Sir Sim. I know that, prithee make no excuses, I say. No ceremony between thee and I, man:—read the letter.
Dap. What, you have not opened it!
Sir Sim. Prithee, don't be angry, the seal is a little cracked: for I could not help kissing Mrs. Martha's letter. The word is, now or never. Her father she finds will be abroad all this day, and she longs to see your friend Sir Simon Addleplot:—faith 'tis a pretty jest; while I am with her, and praising myself to her at no ordinary rate. Let thee and I alone at an intrigue.
Dap. Tell her I will not fail to meet her at the place and time. Have a care of your charge; and manage your business like yourself, for yourself.
Sir Sim. I warrant you.
Dap. The gaining Gripe's daughter will make me support the loss of this young jilt here. [Aside.