_Tick_. I marry, Sir, that's a good one indeed: What shall become of my Head then, Sir? what Guard have I left for that, good Mr. _Monsieur_, hah?
_Pet_. Ah, Morbleu, is not dis for every ting?
_Tick_. No, marry, is not it, Sir; St. _George's_ Guard is best for the Head whilst you live--as thus, Sir.
_Pet_. Dat, Sir, ha, ha--dat be de Guard for de Back-Sword.
_Tick_. Back-sword, Sir, yes, Back-sword, what shou'd it be else?
_Pet_. And dis be de Single-Rapier.
_Tick_. Single-Rapier with a Vengeance, there's a weapon for a Gentleman indeed; is all this stir about Single-Rapier?
_Pet_. Single-Rapier! What wou'd you have for de Gentlemen, de Cudgel for de Gentlemen?
_Tick_. No, Sir, but I wou'd have it for de Rascally _Frenchman_, who comes to abuse Persons of Quality with paltry Single-Rapier.-- Single-Rapier! Come, Sir, come--put your self in your Cart and your Horse as you call it, and I'll shew you the difference.
[_Undresses himself till he appears in a ridiculous Posture_.
_Pet_. Ah, _Monsieur_, me sall run you two three times through de Body, and den you break a me head, what care I for dat?--Pox on his ignorance.
[_Aside_.
_Tick_. Oh, ho, Sir, do your worst, Sir, do your worst, Sir.
[_They put themselves into several Guards, and_ Tick. _beats_ Pet. _about the Stage.--Enter_ Gall. Fill. _and_ Jul.
_Pet_. Ah, _Monsieur, Monsieur_, will you kill a me?
_Tick_. Ah, _Monsieur_, where be your Carts now, and your Horse, Mr.
_Monsieur_, hah?--and your Single-Rapier, Mr. _Monsieur_, hah?--
_Gal_. Why, how now, Mr. _Tickletext_, what mortal Wars are these? _Ajax_ and _Ulysses_ contending for _Achilles_ his Armour?
_Pet_. If I be not reveng'd on him, hang me. [_Aside_
Sir _Sig_. Ay, why, who the Devil wou'd have taken my Governor for so tall a man of hands? but _Corpo de me_, Mr. _Galliard_, I have not seen his Fellow.
_Tick_. Ah, Sir, time was, I wou'd have play'd ye a Match at Cudgels with e'er a Sophister in the College, but verily I have forgotten it; but here's an Impudent _Frenchman_ that wou'd have past Single-Rapier upon us.
_Gal_. How, nay a my word, then he deserv'd to be chastis'd for't--but now all's at Peace again; pray know my Kinsman, Sir _Harry Fillamour_.
Sir _Sig_. _Yo baco les manos_, Signior _Illustrissimo Cavaliero_,--and yours, Signiors, who are _Multo bien Venito_.
_Tick_. Oh Lord, Sir, you take me, Sir, in such a posture, Sir, as I protest I have not been in this many years.
[_Dressing himself whilst he talks_.
_Fil_. Exercise is good for health, Sir.
_Gal_. Sir _Signal_, you are grown a perfect _Italian_: Well, Mr.
_Tickletext_, you will carry him home a most accomplish't Gentleman I see.
_Tick_. Hum, verily, Sir, though I say it, for a Man that never travell'd before, I think I have done reasonably well--I'll tell you, Sir--it was by my directions and advice that he brought over with him,--two _English_ Knives, a thousand of _English_ Pins, four pair of _Jersey_ Stockings, and as many pair of Buckskin Gloves.
Sir _Sig_. Ay, Sir, for good Gloves you know are very scarce Commodities in this Country.
_Jul_. Here, Sir, at _Rome_, as you say, above all other places.
_Tick_. _Certo_, mere hedging Gloves, Sir, and the clouterlest Seams.
_Fil_. Very right, Sir,--and now he talks of _Rome_,--Pray, Sir, give me your opinion of the Place--Are there not noble Buildings here, rare Statues, and admirable Fountains?
_Tick_. Your Buildings are pretty Buildings, but not comparable to our University Buildings; your Fountains, I confess, are, pretty Springs,-- and your Statues reasonably well carv'd--but, Sir, they are so ancient they are of no value: then your Churches are the worst that ever I saw-- that ever I saw.
_Gal_. How, Sir, the Churches, why I thought _Rome_ had been famous throughout all _Europe_ for fine Churches.
_Fil_. What think you of St. _Peter's_ Church, Sir? Is it not a glorious Structure?
_Tick_. St. _Peter's_ Church, Sir, you may as well call it St. _Peter's_ Hall, Sir; it has neither Pew, Pulpit, Desk, Steeple, nor Ring of Bells; and call you this a Church, Sir? No, Sir, I'll say that for little _England_, and a fig for't, for Churches, easy Pulpits, [Sir _Sig.
speaks_, And sleeping Pews,] they are as well ordered as any Churches in Christendom: and finer Rings of Bells, Sir, I am sure were never heard.
_Jul_. Oh, Sir, there's much in what you say.
_Fil_. But then, Sir, your rich Altars, and excellent Pictures of the greatest Masters of the World, your delicate Musick and Voices, make some amends for the other wants.
_Tick_. How, Sir! tell me of your rich Altars, your Guegaws and Trinkets, and Popish Fopperies, with a deal of Sing-song--when I say, give me, Sir, five hundred close Changes rung by a set of good Ringers, and I'll not exchange 'em for all the Anthems in _Europe_: and for the Pictures, Sir, they are Superstition, idolatrous, and flat Popery.
_Fil_. I'll convince you of that Error, that persuades you harmless Pictures are idolatrous.
_Tick_. How, Sir, how, Sir, convince me! talk to me of being convinc'd, and that in favour of Popery! No, Sir, by your favour I shall not be convinc'd: convinc'd, quoth a!--no, Sir, fare you well, an you be for convincing: come away, Sir _Signal_, fare you well, Sir, fare you well:-- convinc'd!
[_Goes out_.
Sir _Sig_. Ha, ha, ha, so now is my Governour gone in a Fustian-fume: well, he is ever thus when one talks of Whoring and Religion: but come, Sir, walk in, and I'll undertake, my Tutor shall beg your Pardon, and renounce his _English_ ill-bred Opinion; nay, his _English_ Churches too--all but his own Vicaridge.
_Fil_. I have better diversion, Sir, I thank you--come, _Julio_, are you for a Walk in the Garden of _Medices Villa_, 'tis hard by?--
_Jul_. I'll wait on you-- [_Ex_. Fil. _and_ Julio.
Sir _Sig_. How in the Garden of _Medices Villa_?--but, harkye, _Galliard_, will the Ladies be there, the Curtezans, the _Bona Roba's_, the _Inamorata's_, and the _Bell Ingrato's_, hah?
_Gal_. Oh, doubtless, Sir.
[_Exit_. Gall.
Sir _Sig_. I'll e'en bring my Governour thither to beg his Pardon, on purpose to get an opportunity to see the fine Women; it may be I may get a sight of my new Mistress, _Donna Silvianetta_, whom _Petro_ is to bring me acquainted with.
[_Exeunt_.