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.
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.