Volume Ii Part 94 (1/2)

_Gal_. No more; look to't--look you forget her Name--or but to think of her--farewel-- [_Nods at him_.

Sir _Sig_. Farewell, quoth ye--'tis well I had the Art of dissembling after all, here had been a sweet broil upon the Coast else.--

_Fil_. Very well, I'll trouble my self to read no more, since I know you'l be so kind to the world to make it publick.

_Tick_. At my return, Sir, for the good of the Nation, I will print it, and I think it will deserve it.

_Lau_. This is a precious Rogue, to make a Tutor of.

_Fil_. Yet these Mooncalfs dare pretend to the breeding of our Youth; and the time will come, I fear, when none shall be reputed to travel like a Man of Quality, who has not the advantage of being impos'd upon by one of these pedantick Novices, who instructs the young Heir in what himself is most profoundly ignorant of.

_Gal_. Come, 'tis dark, and time for our Design,--your Servant, Signiors.

[_Exeunt_ Fil. _and_ Gal.

_Lau_. I'll home, and watch the kind deceiving Minute, that may conduct him by mistake to me.

[_Exit_.

_Enter_ Petro, _like_ Barberacho, _just as_ Tick.

_and Sir_ Signal _are going out_.

Sir _Sig_. Oh, _Barberacho_, we are undone! Oh, the Diavillo take that Master you sent me?

_Pet_. Master, what Master?

Sir _Sig_. Why, Signior Morigoroso!

_Pet_. Mor--oso--what shou'd he be?

Sir _Sig_. A Civility-Master he should have been, to have taught us good Manners;--but the Cornuto cheated us most d.a.m.nably, and by a willing mistake taught us nothing in the world but Wit.

_Pet_. Oh, abominable Knavery! why, what a kind of Man was he?

Sir _Sig_.--Why--much such another as your self.

_Tick_. Higher, Signior, higher.

Sir _Sig_. Ay, somewhat higher--but just of his pitch.

_Pet_. Well, Sir, and what of this Man?

Sir _Sig_. Only pickt our Pockets, that's all.

_Tick_. Yes, and cozen'd us of our Rings.

Sir _Sig_. Ay, and gave us Cackamarda Orangata for Snuff.

_Tick_. And his Blessing to boot when he had done.

Sir _Sig_. A vengeance on't, I feel it still.

_Pet_. Why, this 'tis to do things of your own head; for I sent no such Signior Moroso--but I'll see what I can do to retrieve 'em--I am now a little in haste, farewell.-- [_Offers to go_, Tick. _goes out by him and jogs him_.