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 a 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 Franca:  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.

ACT II.  SCENE I.

  Enter WOODALL and GERVASE.

Wood. Hitherto, sweet Gervase, we have carried matters swimmingly.  I have danced in a net before my father, almost check-mated the keeper, retired to my chamber undiscovered, shifted my habit, and am come out an absolute monsieur, to allure the ladies.  How sits my chedreux?

Gerv. O very finely! with the locks combed down, like a mermaid’s on a sign-post.  Well, you think now your father may live in the same house with you till doomsday, and never find you; or, when he has found you, he will be kind enough not to consider what a property you have made of him.  My employment is at an end; you have got a better pimp, thanks to your filial reverence.

Wood. Pr’ythee, what should a man do with such a father, but use him thus? besides, he does journey-work under me; ’tis his humour to fumble, and my duty to provide for his old age.