Bel. Now proceed, lady, your way is resolved, I'll not tell you a word farther.

open;

I am

Aur. Well then, since I must acquaint you with what you know much better than myself, I will tell you. I loved a cavalier, who was noble, young, and handsome; this gentleman is since gone for Flanders; now whether he has preserved his passion inviolate, or not, is that which causes my inquietude. Bel. Trouble not yourself, madam; he's as constant as a romance hero.

Aur. Sir, your good news has ravished me most furiously; but that I may have a confirmation of it, I beg only, that you would lay your commands upon his genius, or idea, to appear to me this night, that may have my sentence from his mouth. This, sir, I know is a slight effect of your science, and yet will infinitely oblige me.

I

Bel. What the devil does she call a slight effect! [Aside.]—Why, lady, do you consider what you say? you desire me to shew you a man, whom yourself confess to be in Flanders.

Aur. To view him in a glass is nothing; I would speak with him in person, I mean his idea, sir.

Bel. Ay, but, madam, there is a vast sea betwixt us and Flanders; and water is an enemy to conjuration. A witch's horse, you know, when he enters into water, returns into a bottle of hay again.

Aur. But, sir, I am not so ill a geographer, or, to speak more properly, a chorographer, as not to know there is a passage by land from hence to Flanders.

Bel. That's true, madam; but magic works in a direct line. Why should you think the devil such an ass to go about? 'Gad, he'll not stir a step out of his road for you, or any man.

Aur. Yes, for a lady, sir; I hope he's a person

that wants not that civility for a lady; especially a spirit that has the honour to belong to you, sir.

Bel. For that matter, he's your servant, madam; but his education has been in the fire, and he's naturally an enemy to water, I assure you.

Aur. I beg his pardon, for forgetting his antipathy; but it imports not much, sir; for I have lately received a letter from my servant, that he is yet in Spain, and stays for a wind in St Sebastian's.

Bel. Now I am lost, past all redemption.-Maskall, must you be smickering after wenches, while I am in calamity?

[Aside. Mask. It must be he, I'll venture on't. [Aside.] Alas, sir, I was complaining to myself of the condition of poor Don Melchor, who, you know, is windbound at St Sebastian's.

Bel. Why, you impudent villain, must you offer to name him publicly, when I have taken so much care to conceal him all this while?

Aur. Mitigate your displeasure, I beseech you; and, without making farther testimony of it, gratify my expectances.

Bel. Well, madam, since the sea hinders not, you shall have your desire. Look upon me with a fixed eye- so—or a little more amorously, if you please- good. Now favour me with your hand. Aur. Is it absolutely necessary you should press my hand thus?

Bel. Furiously necessary, I assure you, madam; for now I take possession of it in the name of the idea of Don Melchor. Now, madam, I am farther to desire of you, to write a note to his genius, wherein you desire him to appear, and this we men of art call a compact with the ideas.

Aur. I tremble furiously.

Bel. Give me your hand, I'll guide it. [They write.

Mask. to Cam. Now, lady mine, what think you of my master?

Cam. I think, I would not serve him for the world: Nay, if he can know our thoughts by looking on us, we women are hypocrites to little pur

pose.

Mask. He can do that and more; for, by casting his eyes but once upon them, he knows whether they are maids, better than a whole jury of mid

wives.

Cam. Now heaven defend me from him!

Mask. He has a certain small familiar, which he carries still about him, that never fails to make discovery.

Cam. See, they have done writing; not a word more, for fear he knows my voice.

Bel. One thing I had forgot, madam; you must subscribe your name to it.

Aur. There 'tis; farewell, cavalier, keep your pro mise, for I expect it furiously.

Cam. If he sees me, I am undone.

Bel. Camilla!

[Hiding her face.

Cam. starts and shrieks. Ah, he has found me; I am ruined!

Bel. You hide your face in vain; for I see into your heart.

Cam. Then, sweet sir, have pity on my frailty; for if my lady has the least inkling of what we did last night, the poor coachman will be turned away. [Exit after her Lady. Mask. Well, sir, how like you your new profession?

Bel. Would I were well quit on't; I sweat all

over.

Mask. But what faint-hearted devils yours are, that will not go by water! Are they all Lancashire

devils, of the brood of Tybert and Grimalkin, that they dare not wet their feet?

Bel. Mine are honest land devils, good plain foot-posts, that beat upon the hoof for me: But to save their labour, here take this, and in some disguise deliver it to Don Melchor.

Mask. I'll serve it upon him within this hour, when he sallies out to his assignation with Theodosia: 'Tis but counterfeiting my voice a little; for he cannot know me in the dark. But let me see, what are the words?

Reads.] Don Melchor, if the magic of love have any power upon your spirit, I conjure you to appear this night before me: You may guess the greatness of my passion, since it has forced me to have recourse to art; but no shape which resembles you can fright

AURELIA

Bel. Well, I am glad there's one point gained; for, by this means, he will be hindered to-night from entertaining Theodosia.-Pox on him, is he here again?

Enter Don ALONZO.

Alon. Cavalier Inglis, I have been seeking you: I have a present in my pocket for you; read it by your art, and take it.

Bel. That I could do easily: But, to shew you I am generous, I'll none of your present; do you think I am mercenary?

Alon. I know you will say now 'tis some astrological question; and so 'tis perhaps.

Bel. Ay, 'tis the devil of a question, without dispute.

Alon. No, 'tis within dispute: 'Tis a certain dif

ficulty in the art; a problem, which you and I will discuss, with the arguments on both sides.

Bel. At this time I am not problematically given; I have a humour of complaisance upon me, and will contradict no man.

Alon. We'll but discuss a little.

Bel. By your favour, I'll not discuss; for I see by the stars, that, if I dispute to-day, I am infallibly threatened to be thought ignorant all my life after. Alon. Well then, we'll but cast an eye together upon my eldest daughter's nativity.

Bel. Nativity!

Alon. I know what you would say now, that there wants the table of direction for the five hylegiacalls; the ascendant, medium cæli, sun, moon, and stars: But we'll take it as it is.

Bel. Never tell me that, sir

Alon. I know what you would say again, sir Bel. "Tis well you do, for I'll be sworn I do [Aside.

not.

Alon. You would say, sir

Bel. I say, sir, there is no doing without the sun and moon, and all that, sir; and so you may make

use of your paper for your occasions. Come to a man of art without the sun and moon, and all that, sir [Tears it. Alon. "Tis no matter; this shall break no squares betwixt us. [Gathers up the torn papers.] I know what you would say now, that men of parts are always choleric; I know it by myself, sir.

[He goes to match the papers.

Enter Don LOPEZ.

Lop. Don Alonzo in my house! this is a most happy opportunity to put my other design in execution; for, if I can persuade him to bestow his daughter on Don Melchor, I shall serve my friend,

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