Bel. But for all my bragging, this amour is not yet worn off. I find constancy, and once a night, come naturally upon a man towards thirty; only we set a face on't, and call ourselves inconstant for our reputation.

Mask. But what say the stars, sir?

Bel. They move faster than you imagine; for I have got me an argol, and an English almanack, by help of which, in one half hour, I have learned to cant with an indifferent good grace: Conjunction, opposition, trine, square, and sextile, are now no longer bugbears to me, I thank my stars for't.

Enter WILDBLOOD.

Monsieur Wildblood, in good time! What, you have been taking pains, too, to divulge my talent? Wild. So successfully, that shortly there will be no talk in town, but of you only: Another miracle or two, and a sharp sword, and you stand fair for a new prophet.

Bel. But where did you begin to blow the trumpet?

Wild. In the gaming-house, where I found most of the town-wits; the prose-wits playing, and the verse-wits rooking.

Bel. All sorts of gamesters are so superstitious, that I need not doubt of my reception there.

Wild. From thence I went to the latter end of a comedy, and there whispered it to the next man I knew, who had a woman by him.

Mask. Nay, then, it went like a train of powder, if once they had it by the end.

Wild. Like a squib upon a line, i'faith; it ran through one row, and came back upon me in the next. At my going out I met a knot of Spaniards, who were formally listening to one, who was relating it; but he told the story so ridiculously, with

his marginal notes upon it, that I was forced to contradict him.

Bel. 'Twas discreetly done.

Wild. Ay, for you, but not for me: What, says he, must such Boracho's as you take upon you to vilify a man of science? I tell you, he's of my intimate acquaintance, and I have known him long for a prodigious person. When I saw my Don so fierce, I thought it not wisdom to quarrel for so slight a matter as your reputation, and so withdrew.

Bel. A pox of your success! now shall I have my chamber besieged to-morrow morning: There will be no stirring out for me; but I must be fain to take up their questions in a cleft-cane, or a beggingbox, as they do charity in prisons.

Wild. Faith, I cannot help what your learning has brought you to. Go in and study; I foresee you will have but few holidays: In the mean time, I'll not fail to give the world an account of your endowments. Farewell: I'll to the gaming-house. [Exit WILD.

Mask. O, sir, here is the rarest adventure, and, which is more, come home to you!

Bel. What is it?

Mask. A fair lady, and her woman, wait in the outer room to speak with you.

Bel. But how know you she is fair?

Mask. Her woman plucked up her veil when she spoke to me; so that having seen her this evening, I know her mistress to be Donna Aurelia, cousin to your mistress Theodosia, and who lodges in the same house with her: She wants a star or two, I warrant you.

Bel. My whole constellation is at her service: But what is she for a woman?

Mask. Fair enough, as Beatrix has told me; but sufficiently impertinent. She is one of those ladies,

who make ten visits in an afternoon; and entertain her they see, with speaking ill of the last, from whom they parted: In few words, she is one of the greatest coquettes in Madrid; and to shew she is one, she cannot speak ten words without some affected phrase that is in fashion.

Bel. For my part, I can suffer any impertinence from a woman, provided she be handsome: My business is with her beauty, not with her morals; let her confessor look to them.

Mask. I wonder what she has to say to you?

Bel. I know not; but I sweat for fear I should be gravelled.

Mask. Venture out of your depth, and plunge boldly, sir; I warrant you will swim.

Bel. Do not leave me, I charge you; but when I look mournfully upon you, help me out.

Enter AURELIA and CAMILLA.

Mask. Here they are already.

[AUR. plucks up her veil. Aur. How am I dressed to-night, Camilla? is no thing disordered in my head?

Cam. Not the least hair, madam.

Aur. No! let me see: Give me the counsellor of the graces.

Cam. The counsellor of the graces, madam! Aur. My glass, I mean: What, will you never be so spiritual as to understand refined language? Cam. Madam!

Aur. Madam me no madam, but learn to retrench your words; and say ma'am; as, yes ma'am, and no ma'am, as other ladies' women do. dam! 'tis a year in pronouncing.

Cam. Pardon me, madam.

Ma

Aur. Yet again, ignorance! Par-don, madam! fie, fie, what a superfluity is there, and how much sweet

er the cadence is-parn me, ma'am ! and for your ladyship, your la'ship.-Out upon't, what a furious indigence of ribbands is here upon my head! This dress is a libel to my beauty; a mere lampoon. Would any one, that had the least revenue of common sense, have done this?

Cam. Ma'am, the cavalier approaches your la'ship. Bel. to Mask. Maskall, pump the woman; and you can discover any thing to save my cre

see if

dit.

Aur. Out upon it! now I should speak, I want

assurance.

Bel. Madam, I was told you meant to honour me with your commands.

Aur. I believe, sir, you wonder at my confidence in this visit; but I may be excused for waving a little modesty, to know the only person of the age. Bel. I wish my skill were more, to serve you, madam.

Aur. Sir, you are an unfit judge of your own merits: For my own part, I confess, I have a furious inclination for the occult sciences; but at present, 'tis my misfortune[Sighs.

Bel. But why that sigh, madam?

Aur. You might spare me the shame of telling you; since I am sure you can divine my thoughts: I will, therefore, tell you nothing.

Bel. What the devil will become of me now!

[Aside. Aur. You may give me an essay of your science, by declaring to me the secret of my thoughts.

Bel. If I know your thoughts, madam, 'tis in vain for you to disguise them to me: Therefore, as you tender your own satisfaction, lay them open without bashfulness.

Aur. I beseech you let us pass over that chapter; for I am shame-faced to the last point. Since,

therefore, I cannot put off my modesty, succour it, and tell me what I think.

Bel. Madam, madam, that bashfulness must be laid aside: Not but that I know your business perfectly; and will, if you please, unfold it to you all immediately.

Aur. Favour me so far, I beseech you, sir; for I furiously desire it.

Bel. But then I must call up before you a most dreadful spirit, with head upon head, and horns upon horns: Therefore, consider how you can endure

it.

Aur. This is furiously furious; but rather than fail of my expectances, I'll try my assurance.

Bel. Well then, I find you will force me to this unlawful, and abominable act of conjuration: Remember the sin is yours too.

Aur. I espouse the crime also.

Bel. I see, when a woman has a mind to't, she'll never boggle at a sin. Pox on her, what shall I do? [Aside.Well, I'll tell you your thoughts, madam; but after that expect no farther service from me; for 'tis your confidence must make my art successful.- Well, you are obstinate, then; I must tell you your thoughts?

Aur. Hold, hold, sir; I am content to pass over that chapter, rather than be deprived of your assist

ance.

Bel. 'Tis very well; what need these circumstances between us two? Confess freely; is not love your business?

Aur. You have touched me to the quick, sir. Bel. Look you there! you see I knew it; nay, I'll tell you more, 'tis a man you love.

Aur. O prodigious science! I confess I love a man most furiously, to the last point; sir.