Enter SAINTLY.

Saint. Bless us! what’s here to do?  My neighbours will think I keep a nest of unclean birds here.

Limb. You had best peach now, and make her house be thought a bawdy-house!

Trick. No, no:  While you are in it, you will secure it from that scandal.—­Hark hither, Mrs Saintly. [Whispers.]

Limb. Do, tell, tell, no matter for that.

Saint. Who would have imagined you had been such a kind of man, Mr Limberham!  O heaven, O heaven! [Exit.

Limb. So, now you have spit your venom, and the storm’s over.

Aldo. [Crying.] That I should ever live to see this day!

Trick. To show I can live honest, in spite of all mankind, I’ll go into a nunnery, and that is my resolution.

Limb. Do not hinder her, good father Aldo; I am sure she will come back from France, before she gets half way over to Calais.

Aldo. Nay, but son Limberham, this must not be.  A word in private;—­you will never get such another woman, for love nor money.  Do but look upon her; she is a mistress for an emperor.

Limb. Let her be a mistress for a pope, like a whore of Babylon, as she is.

Aldo. Would I were worthy to be a young man, for her sake!  She should eat pearls, if she would have them.

Limb. She can digest them, and gold too.  Let me tell you, father Aldo, she has the stomach of an ostrich.

Aldo. Daughter Tricksy, a word with you.

Trick. I’ll hear nothing:  I am for a nunnery.

Aldo. I never saw a woman, before you, but first or last she would be brought to reason.  Hark you, child, you will scarcely find so kind a keeper.  What if he has some impediment one way?  Every body is not a Hercules.  You shall have my son Woodall, to supply his wants; but, as long as he maintains you, be ruled by him that bears the purse.

        LIMBERHAM SINGING.

  I my own jailor was; my only foe,
    Who did my liberty forego;
  I was a prisoner, because I would be so.

Aldo. Why, look you now, son Limberham, is this a song to be sung at such a time, when I am labouring your reconcilement?  Come, daughter Tricksy, you must be ruled; I’ll be the peace-maker.

Trick. No, I’m just going.

Limb. The devil take me, if I call you back.

Trick. And his dam take me, if I return, except you do.

Aldo. So, now you will part, for a mere punctilio!  Turn to him, daughter:  Speak to her, son:  Why should you be so refractory both, to bring my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave?

Limb. I’ll not be forsworn, I swore first;

Trick. Thou art a forsworn man, however; for thou sworest to love me eternally.