_Trick._ Hold, sir, you act your part too far. Your friend was unconscionable, if he desired more favours at the first interview. _Wood._ He both desired and obtained them, madam, and so will-- _Trick._ [_A noise within._] Heavens! I hear Mr Limberham's voice: he's returned from Barnet. _Wood._ I'll avoid him. _Trick._ That's impossible; he'll meet you. Let me think a moment:--Mrs Saintly is abroad, and cannot discover you: have any of the servants seen you? _Wood._ None. _Trick._ Then you shall pass for my Italian merchant of essences: here's a little box of them just ready. _Wood._ But I speak no Italian; only a few broken scraps, which I picked from Scaramouch and Harlequin at Paris. _Trick._ You must venture that: When we are rid of Limberham, 'tis but slipping into your chamber, throwing off your black perriwig, and riding suit, and you come out an Englishman. No more; he's here. _Enter_ LIMBERHAM. _Limb._ Why, how now, Pug? Nay, I must lay you over the lips, to take hansel of them, for my welcome. _Trick._ [_Putting him back._] Foh! how you smell of sweat, dear! _Limb._ I have put myself into this same unsavoury heat, out of my violent affection to see thee, Pug. Before George, as father Aldo says, I could not live without thee; thou art the purest bed-fellow, though I say it, that I did nothing but dream of thee all night; and then I was so troublesome to father Aldo, (for you must know he and I were lodged together) that, in my conscience, I did so kiss him, and so hug him in my sleep! _Trick._ I dare be sworn 'twas in your sleep; for, when you are waking, you are the most honest, quiet bed-fellow, that ever lay by woman. _Limb._ Well, Pug, all shall be amended; I am come home on purpose to pay old debts. But who is that same fellow there? What makes he in our territories? _Trick._ You oaf you, do you not perceive it is the Italian seignior, who is come to sell me essences? _Limb._ Is this the seignior? I warrant you, it is he the lampoon was made on. [_Sings the tune of Seignior, and ends with,_ Ho, ho. _Trick._ Pr'ythee leave thy foppery, that we may have done with him. He asks an unreasonable price, and we cannot agree. Here, seignior, take your trinkets, and be gone. _Wood._ [_Taking the box._] _A dio, seigniora._ _Limb._ Hold, pray stay a little, seignior; a thing is come into my head of the sudden. _Trick._ What would you have, you eternal sot? the man's in haste. _Limb._ But why should you be in your frumps, Pug, when I design only to oblige you? I must present you with this box of essences; nothing can be too dear for thee. _Trick._ Pray let him go, he understands no English. _Limb._ Then how could you drive a bargain with him, Pug? _Trick._ Why, by signs, you coxcomb.