Limb. You had best peach now, and make her house be thought a bawdy-house!
Trick. No, no: While you are in it, you will secure it from that scandal.—Hark hither, Mrs Saintly. [Whispers.]
Limb. Do, tell, tell, no matter for that.
Saint. Who would have imagined you had been such a kind of man, Mr Limberham! O heaven, O heaven!
[Exit.
Limb. So, now you have spit your venom, and the storm's over.
038 Aldo. [Crying.] That I should ever live to see this day!
Trick. To show I can live honest, in spite of all mankind, I'll go into a nunnery, and that is my resolution.
Limb. Do not hinder her, good father Aldo; I am sure she will come back from France, before she gets half way over to Calais.
Aldo. Nay, but son Limberham, this must not be. A word in private;—you will never get such another woman, for love nor money. Do but look upon her; she is a mistress for an emperor.
Limb. Let her be a mistress for a pope, like a whore of Babylon, as she is.