_Limb._ What did Pug say? will she pray for me? Well, to shew I am in
charity, she shall not pray for me. Come back, Pug. But did I ever
think thou couldst have been so unkind to have parted with me?
[_Cries._

_Aldo._ Look you, daughter, see how nature works in him.

_Limb._ I'll settle two hundred a-year upon thee, because thou said'st
thou would'st pray for me.

_Aldo._ Before George, son Limberham, you will spoil all, if you
underbid so. Come, down with your dust, man: What, shew a base mind,
when a fair lady's in question!

_Limb._ Well, if I must give three hundred--

_Trick._ No, it is no matter; my thoughts are on a better place.

_Aldo._ Come, there is no better place than little London. You shall
not part for a trifle. What, son Limberham! four hundred a year is a
square sum, and you shall give it.

_Limb._ It is a round sum indeed; I wish a three-cornered sum would
have served her turn.--Why should you be so pervicacious now, Pug?
Pray take three hundred. Nay, rather than part, Pug, it shall be so.--
[_She frowns._]

_Aldo._ It shall be so, it shall be so: Come, now buss, and seal the
bargain.