_Fil_. But what Folio have you gotten there, Sir, _Knox_, or _Cartwright?_ _Pet_. Nay, if he be got into that heap of Nonsense, I’ll steal off and undress. [_Aside_.] [_Ex_. Petro. [Tick, _opening the Book_. _Tick_. A small Volume, Sir, into which I transcribe the most memorable and remarkable Transactions of the Day. _Lau_. That doubtless must be worth seeing. _Fil_. [_Reads_.]--April the twentieth, arose a very great Storm of Wind, Thunder, Lightning and Rain,--which was a shrewd sign of foul Weather. The 22th 9 of our 12 Chickens getting loose, flew overboard, the other three miraculously escaping, by being eaten by me that Morning for Breakfast. Sir _Sig_. Harkye, _Galliard_--thou art my Friend, and ‘tis not like a Man of Honour to conceal any thing from one’s Friend,--know then I am The most fortunate Rascal that ever broke bread,--I am this night to visit, Sirrah,--the finest, the most delicious young Harlot, Mum--under the Rose--in all _Rome_, of _Barberacho’s_ acquaintance. _Gal_.--Hah--my Woman, on my Life! and will she be kind? Sir _Sig_. Kind! hang Kindness, Man, I’m resolv’d upon Conquest by Parly or by Force. _Gal_. Spoke like a Roman of the first Race, when noble Rapes, not whining Courtship, did the Lover’s business. Sir _Sig_. ‘Sha, Rapes, Man! I mean by force of Money, pure dint of Gold, faith and troth: for I have given 500 Crowns entrance already, _& Par Dins Bacchus, ‘tis tropo Caro--tropo Caro_, Mr. _Galliard_. _Gal_. And what’s this high-priz’d Lady’s Name, Sir? Sir _Sig_. _La Silvianetta_,--and lodges on the _Corso_, not far from St. James’s of the Incurables--very well situated in case of disaster--hah. _Gal_. Very well,--and did not your wise Worship know this _Silvianetta_ was my Mistress? Sir _Sig_. How! his Mistress! what a damn’d Noddy was I to name her! [_Aside_. _Gal_. D’ye hear, fool! renounce me this Woman instantly, or I’ll first discover it to your Governour, and then cut your throat, Sir. Sir _Sig_. Oh, _Doux Ment_--dear _Galliard_--Renounce her,--_Corpo de mi_, that I will soul and body, if she belong to thee, Man.-- _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.