_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 Illustrissimo 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 ’.was 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_ Titles. _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 ’.was 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 shines 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 Whore; 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 Illustrissimo, 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 damned _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.