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IT takes, as right as wish—Quartilla, was just to her hour; and in the dark, I shuffled my Signior Principi's, Hand, into hers, instead of mine; and there's no doubt, but she has put them together—
He's a brawny Fellow, and like enough, to please her—But for fear the Jade, should be fond of him, next Morning, he has his Lesson, not to an∣swer her any thing, but broken Gibberish—The Jews sent in the Bed, and Plate on Roderigo's account, as new furniture for his House, and (as I am told) are resolv'd to seize it—And if my Signior Principi has not de∣ceiv'd me, we shall have Rable enough, about the House, presently)—I'll take a turn or two, to see the issue.
I say 'twas your Folly Brother, to send it, hand over Head.
We have had greater dealings with him, and his payment, was ever good.
But Men, may not be the same, at all times—It was conside∣rable, and you should have inquir'd.
You, knew his Broker: And I, saw the Goods deliver'd.
But he was broke before.
How could I, know that? Men don't proclaim it.
Had we been bitten by a Snap, 'twere somewhat—But by a prodigal Fool! The Town, will laugh at us.
Let's not make it worse, by talking—Come Gentlemen, stand close; and as the door opens, enter.
'Morrow Gentlemen; you're early Men.
Business, must not be neglected.
And if I mistake not, your Attendants, speak where it lies.
It is too late, to conceal it now—we're miserably cheated.
What? beaten at your own Weapon!—Roderigo sure, is a Man of Estate, and Credit.
Time was, he might have commanded all we have,—But now —the Bird is flown.
Gone, as a Man may say, in fumo!
He left enough behind, unless his Wife has sold it.
There's the Danger—Knock harder.
I have no small concern with him, my self, which brought me hither too; tho' not so well provided—But
When we have serv'd our selves, we're yours.
What rude Hand profan'd this Sanctuary?
And who are you?
I'm the righter of Wrongs, and undoer of Injuries—Heart of Steel, and Arms of Brass.
And what Figure do you make in this House?
Only engag'd, in Roderigo's absence—And (like the Dragon of old) I watch the golden Fruit, 'till his return—Still, true to Honour, and will fight her Battles.
As thus, with that Baboons Snout.
Voto!—Had it been under the Ear, y'ad measured your length.
Sirrah! Begone—And take to your old Trade of knitting Gaps,
making Hair-buttons, Tooth-picks, and false Dice, which you learnt, of your Comerogues of the Galleys.
Why Villains! Rogues! Jews! Is there no consideration of a Ladies Honour?
Keep her Honour to her self, and give us, our Goods.
And thou Polacco!—Oh me!
I hope, your Lady had a good Night of it.
Thou Devil Incarnate!
Picaro! Picaro! make haste Picaro! Execution, stays for ye.
What was that? Picaro!
I'm but buttoning my Coat, and will be with ye, instantly.
Come down! come down! There will be no Sport, 'till you come.
Ah Rogue! art thou there!—Have we refus'd Velasco, Tedesco, di Parphar, di Laco!—
The Devil and all!
And now, to be shamm'd, by the Common-Hangman!
Picaro! Picaro! Picaro! Picaro!
Is this your Principi Polacco!—Poveraccia! Poveraccia, pec∣catrice me!—I could eat thee.
Thou a Gentleman!—You said you'd make a Whore of me, too; but, why don't you Sirrah? why dont ye?
The Fool, raves—And so Picaro; I hope you lik'd your Bedfellow?
So well (Sir) I owe ye another Job; and that, for nothing—She was such Flesh and Blood!
And shall I, see Honour thus trampled on, and yet wear trusty Steel, on Thigh!—Let me, come at the Rogue—I'll pinck his Doublet, and make a Sieve, of's Skin.
Rogues, Scoundrels, Tatterdemallions!
—I say—Rogues, Dogs in Doublets,—Were ye more renown'd, than Palmerin of England; or valiant, than his Cousin, D'Oliva: More un∣daunted, than the twelve Peers of France; or greater Bullies, than King Arthur's Round-Table Men: More adventurous, than Valentine and Or∣son; or Invincible, than Don Bellamis of Greece: Nay—were the whole Mirrour of Knighthood contracted in ye—I'd make ye know—
Marone sure!—'tis he—'twas said, the Devil had carried him away, and now (be-like) has thrown him back, as not worth keeping.
Where am I?—Or whence, came I?—O Signior! I have wonders to tell ye—Roderigo is a Spirit—A very Devil.
And make you, a good use, of your Escape from him.
I will, I will: And never more, oppress any Man, but having got clear of the Senate, what I once, said in scorn, I'll now perform, in earnest—I'll build an Hospital.
To lodge those, your self first Beggar'd.
Give what I have to Charitable Uses.
That is to say—you'll sleep upon't, and look out, for another Mortgage, next Morning—Charity (you know) begins at home.
Respite your Censure, 'till you hear my Story—That I had hearkned to your good, vertuous Uncle!
Whom, under my present Circumstances, I'll never see—If ever Man lost his reason in a Petticoat, 'twas I, the poor, unfortunate, mistaken Fieschi.