_Wood._ Who, I exalted? Good faith, I am as sober, a melancholy poor
soul!--

_Saint._ I see this abominable sin of swearing is rooted in you. Tear
it out; oh, tear it out! it will destroy your precious soul.

_Wood._ I find we two shall scarce agree: I must not come to your
closet when I have got a bottle; for, at such a time, I am horribly
given to it.

_Saint._ Verily, a little swearing may be then allowable: You may
swear you love me, it is a lawful oath; but then, you must not look on
harlots.

_Wood._ I must wheedle her, and whet my courage first on her; as a
good musician always preludes before a tune. Come, here is my first
oath. [_Embracing her._

_Enter_ ALDO.

_Aldo._ How now, Mrs Saintly! what work have we here towards?

_Wood._ [_Aside._] Aldo, my own natural father, as I live! I remember
the lines of that hide-bound face: Does he lodge here? If he should
know me, I am ruined.

_Saint._ Curse on his coming! he has disturbed us. [_Aside._] Well,
young gentleman, I shall take a time to instruct you better.