te under his hand for two hundred pounds.

_Aldo._ A note under his hand! that is a chip in porridge; it is just
nothing.--Look, Geoffery, to the figure 12, for old half-shirts for
childbed linen.

_Enter Mrs_ HACKNEY.

_Hack._ O, madam Termagant, are you here? Justice, father Aldo,
justice!

_Aldo._ Why, what is the matter, daughter Hackney?

_Hack._ She has violated the law of nations; for yesterday she
inveigled my own natural cully from me, a married lord, and made him
false to my bed, father.

_Term._ Come, you are an illiterate whore. He is my lord now; and,
though you call him fool, it is well known he is a critic,
gentlewoman. You never read a play in all your life; and I gained him
by my wit, and so I'll keep him.

_Hack._ My comfort is, I have had the best of him; he can take up no
more, till his father dies: And so, much good may do you with my
cully, and my clap into the bargain.

_Aldo._ Then there is a father for your child, my lord's son and heir
by Mr Caster. But henceforward, to preserve peace betwixt you, I
ordain, that you shall ply no more in my daughter Hackney's quarters:
You shall have the city, from White-Chapel to Temple-Bar, and she
shall have to Covent-Garden downwards: At the play-houses, she shall
ply the boxes, because she has the better face; and you shall have the
pit, because you can prattle best out of a vizor mask.

_Mrs Pad._ Then all friends, and confederates. Now let us have father
Aldo's delight, and so adjourn the house.

_Aldo._ Well said, daughter.--Lift up your voices, and sing like
nightingales, you tory rory jades. Courage, I say; as long as the
merry pence hold out, you shall none of you die in Shoreditch.

_Enter_ WOODALL.

A hey, boys, a hey! here he comes, that will swinge you all! down, you
little jades, and worship him; it is the genius of whoring.

_Wood._ And down went chairs and table, and out went every candle. Ho,
brave old patriarch in the middle of the church militant! whores of
all sorts; forkers and ruin-tailed: Now come I gingling in with my
bells, and fly at the whole covey.

_Aldo._ A hey, a hey, boys! the town's thy own; burn, ravish, and
destroy!

_Wood._ We will have a night of it, like Alexander, when he burnt
Persepolis: _tuez, tuez, tuez! point de quartier._
[_He runs in amongst them, and they scuttle about the room._

_Enter_ SAINTLY, PLEASANCE, JUDITH, _with Broom-sticks._

_Saint._ What, in the midst of Sodom!