adies. 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.

_Gerv._ Take my advice yet; down o' your marrow bones, and ask
forgiveness; espouse the wife he has provided for you; lie by the side
of a wholesome woman, and procreate your own progeny in the fear of
heaven.

_Wood._ I have no vocation to it, Gervase: A man of sense is not made
for marriage; 'tis a game, which none but dull plodding fellows can
play at well; and 'tis as natural to them, as crimp is to a Dutchman.

_Gerv._ Think on't, however, sir; debauchery is upon its last legs in
England: Witty men began the fashion, and now the fops are got into
it, 'tis time to leave it.

_Enter_ ALDO.

_Aldo._ Son Woodall, thou vigorous young rogue, I congratulate thy
good fortune; thy man has told me the adventure of the Italian
merchant.

_Wood._ Well, they are now retired together, like Rinaldo and Armida,
to private dalliance; but we shall find a time to separate their
loves, and strike in betwixt them, daddy. But I hear there's another
lady in the house, my landlady's fair daughter; how came you to leave
her out of your catalogue?

_Aldo._ She's pretty, I confess, but most damnably honest; have a care
of her, I warn you, for she's prying and malicious.

_Wood._ A twang of the mother; but I love to graff on such a
crab-tree; she may bear good fruit another year.

_Aldo._ No, no, avoid her; I warrant thee, young Alexander, I will
provide thee more worlds to conquer.

_Gerv._ [_Aside._] My old master would fain pass for Philip of
Macedon, when he is little better than Sir Pandarus of Troy.

_Wood._ If you get this keeper out of doors, father, and give me but
an opportunity--

_Aldo._ Trust my diligence; I will smoke him out, as they do bees, but
I will make him leave his honey-comb.

_Gerv._ [_Aside._] If I had a thousand sons, none of the race of the
Gervases should ever be educated by thee, thou vile old Satan!

_A