SCENE I.--_An open Garden-House; a table in it, and chairs.

_Enter_ WOODALL _and_ GERVASE.

_Wood._ Bid the footman receive the trunks and portmantua; and see them placed in the lodgings you have taken for me, while I walk a turn here in the garden.

_Gerv._ It is already ordered, sir. But they are like to stay in the outer-room, till the mistress of the house return from morning exercise.

_Wood._ What, she's gone to the parish church, it seems, to her devotions!

_Gerv._ No, sir; the servants have informed me, that she rises every morning, and goes to a private meeting-house; where they pray for the government, and practise against the authority of it.

_Wood._ And hast thou trepanned me into a tabernacle of the godly? Is this pious boarding-house a place for me, thou wicked varlet?

_Gerv._ According to human appearance, I must confess, it is neither fit for you, nor you for it; but have patience, sir; matters are not so bad as they may seem. There are pious bawdy-houses in the world, or conventicles would not be so much frequented. Neither is it impossible, but a devout fanatic landlady of a boarding-house may be a bawd.

_Wood._ Ay, to those of her own church, I grant you, Gervase; but I am none of those.

_Gerv._ If I were worthy to read you a lecture in the mystery of wickedness, I would instruct you first in the art of seeming holiness: But, heaven be thanked, you have a toward and pregnant genius to vice, and need not any man's instruction; and I am too good, I thank my stars, for the vile employment of a pimp.

_Wood._ Then thou art even too good for me; a worse man will serve my turn.

_Gerv._ I call your conscience to witness, how often I have given you wholesome counsel; how often I have said to you, with tears in my eyes, master, or master Aldo--

_Wood._ Mr Woodall, you rogue! that is my _nomme de guerre._ You know I have laid by Aldo, for fear that name should bring me to the notice of my father.

_Gerv._ Cry you mercy, good Mr Woodall. How often have I said,--Into what courses do you run! Your father sent you into France at twelve years old; bred you up at Paris, first in a college, and then at an academy: At the first, instead of running through a course of philosophy, you ran through all the bawdy-houses in town: At the latter, instead of managing the great horse, you exercised on your master's wife. What you did in Germany, I know not; but that you beat them all at their own weapon, drinking, and have brought home a goblet of plate from Munster, for the prize of swallowing a gallon of Rhenish more than the bishop.

_Wood._ Gervase, thou shalt be my chronicler; thou losest none of my heroic actions.

_Gerv._ What a comfort are you like to prove to your good old father! You have run a campaigning among the French these last three years, without his leave; and now he sends for you back, to settle you in the world, and marry you to the heiress of a rich gentleman, of whom he had the guardianship, yet you do not make your application to him.

_Wood._ Pr'ythee, no more.

_Gerv._ You are come over, have been in town above a week _incognito_, haunting play-houses, and other places, which for modesty I name not; and have changed your name from Aldo to Woodall, for fear of being discovered to him: You have not so much as inquired where he is lodged, though you know he is most commonly in London: And lastly, you have discharged my honest fellow-servant Giles, because--

_Wood._ Because he was too saucy, and was ever offering to give me counsel: Mark that, and tremble at his destiny.

_Gerv._ I know the reason why I am kept; because you cannot be discovered by my means; for you took me up in France, and your father knows me not.

_Wood._ I must have a ramble in the town: When I have spent my money, I will grow dutiful, see my father, and ask for more. In the mean time, I have beheld a handsome woman at a play, I am fallen in love with her, and have found her easy: Thou, I thank thee, hast traced her to her lodging in this boarding-house, and hither I am come, to accomplish my design.

_Gerv._ Well, heaven mend all. I hear our landlady's voice without; [_Noise._] and therefore shall defer my counsel to a fitter season.

_Wood._ Not a syllable of counsel: The next grave sentence, thou marchest after Giles. Woodall's my name; remember that.

_Enter Mrs_ SAINTLY.

Is this the lady of the house?

_Gerv._ Yes, Mr Woodall, for want of a better, as she will tell you.

_Wood._ She has a notable smack with her! I believe zeal first taught the art of kissing close. [_Saluting her._

_Saint._ You are welcome, gentleman. Woodall is your name?

_Wood._ I call myself so.

_Saint._ You look like a sober discreet gentleman; there is grace in your countenance.

_Wood._ Some sprinklings of it, madam: We must not boast.

_Saint._ Verily, boasting is of an evil principle.

_Wood._ Faith, madam--

_Saint._ No swearing, I beseech you. Of what church are you?

_Wood._ Why, of Covent-Garden church, I think.

_Gerv._ How lewdly and ignorantly he answers! [_Aside_] She means, of what religion are you?

_Wood._ O, does she so?--Why, I am of your religion, be it what it will; I warrant it a right one: I'll not stand with you for a trifle; presbyterian, independent, anabaptist, they are all of them too good for us, unless we had the grace to follow them.

_Saint._ I see you are ignorant; but verily, you are a new vessel, and I may season you. I hope you do not use the parish-church.

_Wood._ Faith, madam--cry you mercy; (I forgot again) I have been in England but five days.

_Saint._ I find a certain motion within me to this young man, and must secure him to myself, ere he see my lodgers. [_Aside._]--O, seriously, I had forgotten; your trunk and portmantua are standing in the hall; your lodgings are ready, and your man may place them, if he please, while you and I confer together.

_Wood._ Go, Gervase, and do as you are directed. [_Exit_ GER.

_Saint._ In the first place, you must know, we are a company of ourselves, and expect you should live conformably and lovingly amongst us.

_Wood._ There you have hit me. I am the most loving soul, and shall be conformable to all of you.

_Saint._ And to me especially. Then, I hope, you are no keeper of late hours.

_Wood._ No, no, my hours are very early; betwixt three and four in the morning, commonly.

_Saint._ That must be amended; but, to remedy the inconvenience, I will myself sit up for you. I hope, you would not offer violence to me?

_Wood._ I think I should not, if I were sober.

_Saint._ Then, if you were overtaken, and should offer violence, and I consent not, you may do your filthy part, and I am blameless.

_Wood._ [_Aside._] I think the devil's in her; she has given me the hint again.--Well, it shall go hard, but I will offer violence sometimes; will that content you?

_Saint._ I have a cup of cordial water in my closet, which will help to strengthen nature, and to carry off a debauch: I do not invite you thither; but the house will be safe a-bed, and scandal will be avoided.

_Wood._ Hang scandal; I am above it at those times.

_Saint._ But scandal is the greatest part of the offence; you must be secret. And I must warn you of another thing; there are, besides myself, two more young women in my house.

_Wood._ [_Aside._] That, besides herself, is a cooling card.--Pray, how young are they?

_Saint._ About my age: some eighteen, or twenty, or thereabouts.

_Wood._ Oh, very good! Two more young women besides yourself, and both handsome?

_Saint._ No, verily, they are painted outsides; you must not cast your eyes upon them, nor listen to their conversation: You are already chosen for a better work.

_Wood._ I warrant you, let me alone: I am chosen, I.

_Saint._ They are a couple of alluring wanton minxes.

_Wood._ Are they very alluring, say you? very wanton?

_Saint._ You appear exalted, when I mention those pit-falls of iniquity.

_Wood._ Who, I exalted? Good faith, I am as sober, a melancholy poor soul!--

_Saint._ I see this abominable sin of swearing is rooted in you. Tear it out; oh, tear it out! it will destroy your precious soul.

_Wood._ I find we two shall scarce agree: I must not come to your closet when I have got a bottle; for, at such a time, I am horribly given to it.

_Saint._ Verily, a little swearing may be then allowable: You may swear you love me, it is a lawful oath; but then, you must not look on harlots.

_Wood._ I must wheedle her, and whet my courage first on her; as a good musician always preludes before a tune. Come, here is my first oath. [_Embracing her._

_Enter_ ALDO.

_Aldo._ How now, Mrs Saintly! what work have we here towards?

_Wood._ [_Aside._] Aldo, my own natural father, as I live! I remember the lines of that hide-bound face: Does he lodge here? If he should know me, I am ruined.

_Saint._ Curse on his coming! he has disturbed us. [_Aside._] Well, young gentleman, I shall take a time to instruct you better.

_Wood._ You shall find me an apt scholar.

_Saint._ I must go abroad upon some business; but remember your promise, to carry yourself soberly, and without scandal in my family; and so I leave you to this gentleman, who is a member of it. [_Exit_ SAINT.

_Aldo._ [_Aside._] Before George, a proper fellow, and a swinger he should be, by his make! the rogue would humble a whore, I warrant him.--You are welcome, sir, amongst us; most heartily welcome, as I may say.

_Wood._ All's well: he knows me not.--Sir, your civility is obliging to a stranger, and may befriend me, in the acquaintance of our fellow-lodgers.

_Aldo._ Hold you there, sir: I must first understand you a little better; and yet, methinks, you should be true to love.

_Wood._ Drinking and wenching are but slips of youth: I had those two good qualities from my father.

_Aldo._ Thou, boy! Aha, boy! a true Trojan, I warrant thee! [_Hugging him._] Well, I say no more; but you are lighted into such a family, such food for concupiscence, such _bona roba's_!

_Wood._ One I know, indeed; a wife: But _bona roba's_, say you?

_Aldo._ I say, _bona roba's_, in the plural number.

_Wood._ Why, what a Turk Mahomet shall I be! No, I will not make myself drunk with the conceit of so much joy: The fortune's too great for mortal man; and I a poor unworthy sinner.

_Aldo._ Would I lie to my friend? Am I a man? Am I a christian? There is that wife you mentioned, a delicate little wheedling devil, with such an appearance of simplicity; and with that, she does so undermine, so fool her conceited husband, that he despises her!

_Wood._ Just ripe for horns: His destiny, like a Turk's, is written in his forehead.[1]

_Aldo._ Peace, peace! thou art yet ordained for greater things. There is another, too, a kept mistress, a brave strapping jade, a two-handed whore!

_Wood._ A kept mistress, too! my bowels yearn to her already: she is certain prize.

_Aldo._ But this lady is so termagant an empress! and he is so submissive, so tame, so led a keeper, and as proud of his slavery as a Frenchman. I am confident he dares not find her false, for fear of a quarrel with her; because he is sure to be at the charges of the war. She knows he cannot live without her, and therefore seeks occasions of falling out, to make him purchase peace. I believe she is now aiming at a settlement.

_Wood._ Might not I ask you one civil question? How pass you your time in this noble family? For I find you are a lover of the game, and I should be loth to hunt in your purlieus.

_Aldo._ I must first tell you something of my condition. I am here a friend to all of them; I am their _factotum_, do all their business; for, not to boast, sir, I am a man of general acquaintance: There is no news in town, either foreign or domestic, but I have it first; no mortgage of lands, no sale of houses, but I have a finger in them.

_Wood._ Then, I suppose, you are a gainer by your pains.

_Aldo._ No, I do all _gratis_, and am most commonly a loser; only a buck sometimes from this good lord, or that good lady in the country: and I eat it not alone, I must have company.

_Wood._ Pray, what company do you invite?

_Aldo._ Peace, peace, I am coming to you: Why, you must know I am tender-natured; and if any unhappy difference have arisen betwixt a mistress and her gallant, then I strike in, to do good offices betwixt them; and, at my own proper charges, conclude the quarrel with a reconciling supper.

_Wood._ I find the ladies of pleasure are beholden to you.

_Aldo._ Before George, I love the poor little devils. I am indeed a father to them, and so they call me: I give them my counsel, and assist them with my purse. I cannot see a pretty sinner hurried to prison by the land-pirates, but nature works, and I must bail her; or want a supper, but I have a couple of crammed chickens, a cream tart, and a bottle of wine to offer her.

_Wood._ Sure you expect some kindness in return.

_Aldo._ Faith, not much: Nature in me is at low water-mark; my body's a jade, and tires under me; yet I love to smuggle still in a corner; pat them down, and pur over them; but, after that, I can do them little harm.

_Wood._ Then I'm acquainted with your business: You would be a kind of deputy-fumbler under me.

_Aldo._ You have me right. Be you the lion, to devour the prey; I am your jackall, to provide it for you: There will be a bone for me to pick.

_Wood._ Your humility becomes your age. For my part, I am vigorous, and throw at all.

_Aldo._ As right as if I had begot thee! Wilt thou give me leave to call thee son?

_Wood._ With all my heart.

_Aldo._ Ha, mad son!

_Wood._ Mad daddy!

_Aldo._ Your man told me, you were just returned from travel: What parts have you last visited?

_Wood._ I came from France.

_Aldo._ Then, perhaps, you may have known an ungracious boy of mine there.

_Wood._ Like enough: Pray, what's his name?

_Aldo._ George Aldo.

_Wood._ I must confess I do know the gentleman; satisfy yourself, he's in health, and upon his return.

_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.

_Wood._ [_Aside._] Are you gloating already? then there's hopes, i'faith.

_Trick._ You seem to know him, father.

_Aldo._ Know him! from his cradle--What's your name?

_Wood._ Woodall.

_Ald._ Woodall of Woodall; I knew his father; we were contemporaries, and fellow-wenchers in our youth.

_Wood._ [_Aside._] My honest father stumbles into truth, in spite of lying.

_Trick._ I was just coming down to the garden-house, before you came. [TRICKSY _descends._

_Aldo._ I am sorry I cannot stay to present my son, Woodall, to you; but I have set you together, that's enough for me. [_Exit._

_Wood._ [_Alone._] 'Twas my study to avoid my father, and I have run full into his mouth: and yet I have a strong hank upon him too; for I am privy to as many of his virtues, as he is of mine. After all, if I had an ounce of discretion left, I should pursue this business no farther: but two fine women in a house! well, it is resolved, come what will on it, thou art answerable for all my sins, old Aldo--

_Enter_ TRICKSY, _with a box of essences._

Here she comes, this heir-apparent of a sempstress, and a cobler! and yet, as she's adorned, she looks like any princess of the blood. [_Salutes her._

_Trick._ [_Aside._] What a difference there is between this gentleman, and my feeble keeper, Mr Limberham! he's to my wish, if he would but make the least advances to me.--Father Aldo tells me, sir, you are a traveller: What adventures have you had in foreign countries?

_Wood._ I have no adventures of my own, can deserve your curiosity; but, now I think on it, I can tell you one that happened to a French cavalier, a friend of mine, at Tripoli.

_Trick._ No wars, I beseech you: I am so weary of father Aldo's Loraine and Crequi.

_Wood._ Then this is as you would desire it, a love-adventure. This French gentleman was made a slave to the Dey of Tripoli; by his good qualities, gained his master's favour; and after, by corrupting an eunuch, was brought into the seraglio privately, to see the Dey's mistress.

_Trick._ This is somewhat; proceed, sweet sir.

_Wood._ He was so much amazed, when he first beheld her leaning over a balcony, that he scarcely dared to lift his eyes, or speak to her.

_Trick._ [_Aside._] I find him now.--But what followed of this dumb interview?

_Wood._ The nymph was gracious, and came down to him; but with so goddess-like a presence, that the poor gentleman was thunder-struck again.

_Trick._ That savoured little of the monsieur's gallantry, especially when the lady gave him encouragement.

_Wood_ The gentleman was not so dull, but he understood the favour, and was presuming enough to try if she were mortal. He advanced with more assurance, and took her fair hands: was he not too bold, madam? and would not you have drawn back yours, had you been in the sultana's place?

_Trick._ If the sultana liked him well enough to come down into the garden to him, I suppose she came not thither to gather nosegays.

_Wood._ Give me leave, madam, to thank you, in my friend's behalf, for your favourable judgment. [_Kisses her hand._] He kissed her hand with an exceeding transport; and finding that she prest his at the same instant, he proceeded with a greater eagerness to her lips--but, madam, the story would be without life, unless you give me leave to act the circumstances. [_Kisses her._

_Trick._ Well, I'll swear you are the most natural historian!

_Wood._ But now, madam, my heart beats with joy, when I come to tell you the sweetest part of his adventure: opportunity was favourable, and love was on his side; he told her, the chamber was more private, and a fitter scene for pleasure. Then, looking on her eyes, he found them languishing; he saw her cheeks blushing, and heard her voice faultering in a half-denial: he seized her hand with an amorous ecstacy, and-- [_Takes her hand._

_Trick._ Hold, sir, you act your part too far. Your friend was unconscionable, if he desired more favours at the first interview.

_Wood._ He both desired and obtained them, madam, and so will--

_Trick._ [_A noise within._] Heavens! I hear Mr Limberham's voice: he's returned from Barnet.

_Wood._ I'll avoid him.

_Trick._ That's impossible; he'll meet you. Let me think a moment:--Mrs Saintly is abroad, and cannot discover you: have any of the servants seen you?

_Wood._ None.

_Trick._ Then you shall pass for my Italian merchant of essences: here's a little box of them just ready.

_Wood._ But I speak no Italian; only a few broken scraps, which I picked from Scaramouch and Harlequin at Paris.

_Trick._ You must venture that: When we are rid of Limberham, 'tis but slipping into your chamber, throwing off your black perriwig, and riding suit, and you come out an Englishman. No more; he's here.

_Enter_ LIMBERHAM.

_Limb._ Why, how now, Pug? Nay, I must lay you over the lips, to take hansel of them, for my welcome.

_Trick._ [_Putting him back._] Foh! how you smell of sweat, dear!

_Limb._ I have put myself into this same unsavoury heat, out of my violent affection to see thee, Pug. Before George, as father Aldo says, I could not live without thee; thou art the purest bed-fellow, though I say it, that I did nothing but dream of thee all night; and then I was so troublesome to father Aldo, (for you must know he and I were lodged together) that, in my conscience, I did so kiss him, and so hug him in my sleep!

_Trick._ I dare be sworn 'twas in your sleep; for, when you are waking, you are the most honest, quiet bed-fellow, that ever lay by woman.

_Limb._ Well, Pug, all shall be amended; I am come home on purpose to pay old debts. But who is that same fellow there? What makes he in our territories?

_Trick._ You oaf you, do you not perceive it is the Italian seignior, who is come to sell me essences?

_Limb._ Is this the seignior? I warrant you, it is he the lampoon was made on. [_Sings the tune of Seignior, and ends with,_ Ho, ho.

_Trick._ Pr'ythee leave thy foppery, that we may have done with him. He asks an unreasonable price, and we cannot agree. Here, seignior, take your trinkets, and be gone.

_Wood._ [_Taking the box._] _A dio, seigniora._

_Limb._ Hold, pray stay a little, seignior; a thing is come into my head of the sudden.

_Trick._ What would you have, you eternal sot? the man's in haste.

_Limb._ But why should you be in your frumps, Pug, when I design only to oblige you? I must present you with this box of essences; nothing can be too dear for thee.

_Trick._ Pray let him go, he understands no English.

_Limb._ Then how could you drive a bargain with him, Pug?

_Trick._ Why, by signs, you coxcomb.

_Limb._ Very good! then I'll first pull him by the sleeve, that's a sign to stay. Look you, Mr Seignior, I would make a present of your essences to this lady; for I find I cannot speak too plain to you, because you understand no English. Be not you refractory now, but take ready money: that's a rule.

_Wood._ _Seignioro, non intendo Inglese._

_Limb._ This is a very dull fellow! he says, he does not intend English. How much shall I offer him, Pug?

_Trick._ If you will present me, I have bidden him ten guineas.

_Limb._ And, before George, you bid him fair. Look you, Mr Seignior, I will give you all these. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10. Do you see, Seignior?

_Wood._ _Seignior, si._

_Limb._ Lo' you there, Pug, he does see. Here, will you take me at my word?

_Wood._ [_Shrugging up_] _Troppo poco, troppo poco._

_Limb._ _A poco, a poco!_ why a pox on you too, an' you go to that. Stay, now I think on't, I can tickle him up with French; he'll understand that sure. _Monsieur, voulez vous prendre ces dix guinees, pour ces essences? mon foy c'est assez._

_Wood._ _Chi vala, amici: Ho di casa! taratapa, taratapa, eus, matou, meau!_--[_To her._] I am at the end of my Italian; what will become of me?

_Trick._ [_To him._] Speak any thing, and make it pass for Italian; but be sure you take his money.

_Wood._ _Seignior, io non canno takare ten guinneo possibilmentè; 'tis to my losso._

_Limb._ That is, Pug, he cannot possibly take ten guineas, 'tis to his loss: Now I understand him; this is almost English.

_Trick._ English! away, you fop: 'tis a kind of _lingua Franca_, as I have heard the merchants call it; a certain compound language, made up of all tongues, that passes through the Levant.

_Limb._ This _lingua_, what you call it, is the most rarest language! I understand it as well as if it were English; you shall see me answer him: _Seignioro, stay a littlo, and consider wello, ten guinnio is monyo, a very considerablo summo._

_Trick._ Come, you shall make it twelve, and he shall take it for my sake.

_Limb._ Then, _Seignioro,_ for _Pugsakio, addo two moro: je vous donne bon advise: prenez vitement: prenez me à mon mot._

_Wood._ _Io losero multo; ma pergagnare il vestro costumo, datemi hansello._

_Limb._ There is both _hansello_ and _guinnio; tako, tako,_ and so good-morrow.

_Trick._ Good-morrow, seignior; I like your spirits very well; pray let me have all your essence you can spare.

_Limb._ Come, _Puggio,_ and let us retire in _secreto_, like lovers, into our _chambro_; for I grow _impatiento--bon matin, monsieur, bon matin et bon jour._ [_Exeunt_ LIMBERHAM _and_ TRICKSY.

_Wood._ Well, get thee gone, 'squire Limberhamo, for the easiest fool I ever knew, next my naunt of fairies in the Alchemist[4]. I have escaped, thanks to my mistress's _lingua França_: I'll steal to my chamber, shift my perriwig and clothes; and then, with the help of resty Gervase, concert the business of the next campaign. My father sticks in my stomach still; but I am resolved to be Woodall with him, and Aldo with the women. [_Exit._