CLEVELAND.  Tut, tut!  I will not give his cunning a chance to plan another escape.  The best thing you can do is to help me to prevent the possibility of the marriage.

HARRY.  You are my superior.  I have no choice but to obey.  But I long to inflict the punishment due to his treachery. [Exit.

CLEVELAND.  Pest on’t, I love the wench.  I thought, if married to Arbald, and frequently near me, my suit might flourish.  But the cunning vixen caught me in my own trap.  If I could only trip her now; let me see—­let me see.

Enter ARBALD.

CLEVELAND.  Ah, Arbald, come hither.  How flourishes your suit with Miss
Elsworth?

ARBALD.  Badly, I must confess.

CLEVELAND.  Unless we prevent it she will be married to this Armstrong before morning.

ARBALD.  Is it possible?

CLEVELAND.  I have my own reasons for desiring to break up the match between them—­to prevent their marriage.  Nothing occurs to me at all feasible to that end, but some plan to get introduced into Armstrong’s presence a woman disguised as Rose.

ARBALD.  And marry them?

CLEVELAND.  Ay.  Armstrong is on the alert for some scheme to rescue him—­would fall into such a net as fishes do—­and think it was his mistress’ cunning to serve him.

ARBALD.  But where is the woman?

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.

METCALF. [Aside.] Fellow!  It is remarkable now that I, who daily make a score of urchins tremble in their shoes at the frown of my portentous brow, can’t in the least make these people afraid of me.  Let me see what effect one of my frightfully severe looks would have. [Walks up to him.

CLEVELAND.  Well, sir, have you any business with me?

METCALF.  No, no, sir. [Aside.] I suppose my urchins feel as I do now. [Aloud.] I’ve got an idea, sir, about the Captain.

CLEVELAND.  Well, what idea?

METCALF. [Aside.] Here comes Rose—­the very image of Bridget—­all I wanted was to give her time. [Aloud.] An idea—­[Aside.] to trap you with sword, coat, and all—­

CLEVELAND.  There she is—­begone, fellow—­you intrude upon me.