Volume Ii Part 84 (1/2)

_Tick_. Twenty Crowns!--Why, 'tis a Sum, a Portion, a Revenue.

_Pet_. Alas, Signior, 'tis nothing with her,--she'll look it out in an hour,--ah, such an Eye, so sparkling, with an amorous Twire--Then, Sir-- she'll kiss it out in a moment,--such a Lip, so red, so round, so plump, so soft, and so--

_Tick_. Why, has she, has she, Sirrah--hah--here, here, prithee take money, here, and make no words on't--go, go your way, go--But to entertain Sir _Signal_ with other matter, pray send his Masters to him; if thou canst help him to Masters, and me to Mistresses, thou shalt be the good Genius of us both: but see where he comes--

_Enter Sir_ Signal.

Sir _Sig_. Hah! _Signior Ill.u.s.trissimo Barberacho_, let me hug thee, my little _Miphistophiloucho_--de ye see here, how fine your Brokering Jew has made me, Signior _Rabbi Manaseth--Ben--Nebiton_, and so forth; hah-- view me round-- [_Turns round_.

_Tick_. I profess 'tis as fit as if it had been made for you.

Sir _Sig_. Made for me--Why, Sir, he swore to me by the old Law, that 'twas never worn but once, and that but by one High-German Prince--I have forgot his name--for the Devil can never remember a fart these dam'd _Hogan-Mogan_ t.i.tles.

_Tick_. No matter, Sir.

Sir _Sig_. Ay, but I shou'd be loth to be in any man's Clothes, were he never so high a German Prince--except I knew his name though.

_Tick_. Sir, I hold his name unnecessary to be remembred, so long as 'twas a princely Penniworth.--_Barberacho_, get you gone, and send the Masters.

[_Ex_. Petro.

Sir _Sig_. Why, how now, Governour? how now, Signior _Tickletext_!

prithee how camest thou so transmogrified, ha? why, thou look'st like any new-fledg'd _Cupid_.

_Tick_. Do I? away, you flatter; do I?

Sir _Sig_. As I hope to breathe, your Face s.h.i.+nes through your pouder'd Hairs, like you know what on a Barn-door in a frosty morning.

_Tick_. What a filthy comparison there for a man of my Coat?

Sir _Sig_. What, angry--_Corpo di me_, I meant no harm,--Come, shall's to a _Bonaroba_, where thou shalt part with thy Pusilage, and that of thy Beard together?

_Tick_. How mean you, Sir, a Curtezan, and a Romish Curtezan?

Sir _Sig_. Now my Tutor's up, ha, ha, ha--and ever is when one names a Wh.o.r.e; be pacify'd, Man, be pacify'd, I know thou hat'st 'em worse than Beads or Holy-water.

_Tick_. Away, you are such another Knight--but leave this naughty discourse, and prepare for your Fencing and Civility-Masters, who are coming.

Sir _Sig_. Ay, when, Governour, when? Oh, how I long for my Civility-Master, that I may learn to out-complement all the dull Knights and Squires in _Kent_, with a _Servitore Hulichimo--No Signiora Bellissima, base le Mane de vos Signiora scusa mia Ill.u.s.trissimo, caspeto de Bacco_, and so I'll run on, hah, Governour, hah! won't this be pure?

_Tick_. Notably ingenious, I profess.

Sir _Sig_. Well, I'll send my _Staffiera_ for him _incontinente_.--he, _Jack_--a--_Cazo_, what a d.a.m.ned _English_ name is _Jack_? let me see--I will call him _Giovanni_--which is as much as to say _John_!--he _Giovanni_.

_Enter_ Jack.

_Tick_. Sir, by your favour, his _English_ Protestant Name is _John Pepper_, and I'll call him by ne'er a Popish Name in Christendom.

Sir _Sig_. I'll call my own man, Sir, by what name I please, Sir; and let me tell you, Reverend Mr. _Tickletext_, I scorn to be served by any man whose name has not an _Acho_ or an _Oucho_, or some _Italiano_ at the end on't--therefore _Giovanni Peperacho_ is the name by which you shall be distinguish'd and dignify'd hereafter.

_Tick_. Sir _Signal_, Sir _Signal_, let me tell you, that to call a man out of his name is unwarrantable, for _Peter_ is call'd _Peter_, and _John John_; and I'll not see the poor Fellow wrong'd of his Name for ne'er a _Giovanni_ in _Rome_.