Aldo. That’s some comfort:  But, I hear, a very rogue, a lewd young fellow.

Wood. The worst I know of him is, that he loves a wench; and that good quality he has not stolen. [Music at the Balcony over head:  Mrs TRICKSY and JUDITH appear.]—­Hark!  There’s music above.

Aldo. ’Tis at my daughter Tricksy’s lodging; the kept mistress I told you of, the lass of mettle.  But for all she carries it so high, I know her pedigree; her mother’s a sempstress in Dog-and-Bitch yard, and was, in her youth, as right as she is.

Wood. Then she’s a two-piled punk, a punk of two descents.

Aldo. And her father, the famous cobler, who taught Walsingham to the black-birds.  How stand thy affections to her, thou lusty rogue?

Wood. All on fire:  A most urging creature!

Aldo. Peace! they are beginning.

A SONG.

I.

’Gainst keepers we petition,
Who would inclose the common: 
’Tis enough to raise sedition
In the free-born subject, woman. 
Because for his gold,
I my body have sold,
He thinks I’m a slave for my life;
He rants, domineers,
He swaggers and swears,
And would keep me as bare as his wife.

II.

’Gainst keepers we petition, &c. 
’Tis honest and fair,
That a feast I prepare;
But when his dull appetite’s o’er,
I’ll treat with the rest
Some welcomer guest,
For the reckoning was paid me before.

Wood. A song against keepers! this makes well for us lusty lovers.

Trick. [Above.] Father, father Aldo!

Aldo. Daughter Tricksy, are you there, child? your friends at Barnet are all well, and your dear master Limberham, that noble Hephestion, is returning with them.

Trick. And you are come upon the spur before, to acquaint me with the news.

Aldo. Well, thou art the happiest rogue in a kind keeper!  He drank thy health five times, supernaculum,[2] to my son Brain-sick; and dipt my daughter Pleasance’s little finger, to make it go down more glibly:[3] And, before George, I grew tory rory, as they say, and strained a brimmer through the lily-white smock, i’faith.

Trick. You will never leave these fumbling tricks, father, till you are taken up on suspicion of manhood, and have a bastard laid at your door:  I am sure you would own it, for your credit.

Aldo. Before George, I should not see it starve, for the mother’s sake:  For, if she were a punk, she was good-natured, I warrant her.

Wood. [Aside.] Well, if ever son was blest with a hopeful father, I am.

Trick. Who is that gentleman with you?

Aldo. A young monsieur returned from travel; a lusty young rogue; a true-milled whoremaster, with the right stamp.  He is a fellow-lodger, incorporate in our society:  For whose sake he came hither, let him tell you.