re you, but first or last she would
be brought to reason. Hark you, child, you will scarcely find so kind
a keeper. What if he has some impediment one way? Every body is not a
Hercules. You shall have my son Woodall, to supply his wants; but, as
long as he maintains you, be ruled by him that bears the purse.

LIMBERHAM SINGING.

_I my own jailor was; my only foe,
Who did my liberty forego;
I was a prisoner, because I would be so._

_Aldo._ Why, look you now, son Limberham, is this a song to be sung at
such a time, when I am labouring your reconcilement? Come, daughter
Tricksy, you must be ruled; I'll be the peace-maker.

_Trick._ No, I'm just going.

_Limb._ The devil take me, if I call you back.

_Trick._ And his dam take me, if I return, except you do.

_Aldo._ So, now you will part, for a mere punctilio! Turn to him,
daughter: Speak to her, son: Why should you be so refractory both, to
bring my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave?

_Limb._ I'll not be forsworn, I swore first;

_Trick._ Thou art a forsworn man, however; for thou sworest to love me
eternally.

_Limb._ Yes, I was such a fool, to swear so.

_Aldo._ And will you have that dreadful oath lie gnawing on your
conscience?

_Trick._ Let him be damned; and so farewell for ever.--[_Going._]

_Limb._ Pug!

_Trick._ Did you call, Mr Limberham?

_Limb._ It may be, ay; it may be, no.

_Trick._ Well, I am going to the nunnery; but, to shew I am in
charity, I'll pray for you.

_Aldo._ Pray for him! fy, daughter, fy; is that an answer for a
Christian?

_Limb._ What did Pug say? will she pray for me? Well, to shew I am in
charity, she shall not pray for me. Come back, Pug. But did I ever
think thou couldst have been so unkind to have parted with me?
[_Cries._

_Aldo._ Look you, daughter, see how nature works in him.

_Limb._ I'll settle two hundred a-year upon thee, because thou said'st
thou would'st pray for me.

_Aldo._ Before George, son Limberham, you will spoil all, if you
underbid so. Come, down with your dust, man: What, shew a base mind,
when a fair lady's in question!

_Limb._ Well, if I must give three hundred--

_Trick._ No, it is no matter; my thoughts are on a better place.

_Aldo._ Come, there is no better place than little London. You shall
not part for a trifle. What, son Limberham! four hundred a year is a
square sum, and you shall give it.

_