--I am sorry you cannot enter at that low Door, Seignior, I'll have it broken down--
_Hunt._ No, Seignior, I can go in at twice.
_Feth._ How, at twice! what a Pox can he mean?
_Will._ Oh, Sir,'tis a frequent thing by way of Inchantment. Hunt _being all Doublet, leaps off from another Man who is all Breeches, and goes out; Breeches follows stalking._
_Feth._ Oh Pox, Mr. Doctor, this must be the Devil.
_Will._ Oh fie, Sir, the Devil! no 'tis all done by an inchanted Girdle-- These damn'd Rascals will spoil all by too gross an Imposition on the Fools.
[Aside.
_Feth._ This is the Devil, _Ned_, that's certain-- But hark ye, Mr.
Doctor, I hope I shall not have my Mistress inchanted from me by this inchanted Rival, hah?
_Will._ Oh, no, Sir, the Inquisition will never let 'em marry, for fear of a Race of Giants,'twill be worse than the Invasion of the _Moors_, or the _French_: but go-- think of your Mistresses Names and Ages, here's Company, and you would not be seen.
[Ex. _Blunt_ and _Feth._
Enter _La Nuche_ and_ Aurelia_; _Will._ bows to her.
_La Nu._ Sir, the Fame of your excellent Knowledge, and what you said to me this day; has given me a Curiosity to learn my Fate, at least that Fate you threatened.
_Will._ Madam, from the Oracle in the Box you may be resolved any Question-- [Leads her to the Table, where stands a Box full of Balls; he stares on her.
--How lovely every absent minute makes her-- Madam, be pleas'd to draw from out this Box what Ball you will.
[She draws, he takes it, and gazes on her and on it.
Madam, upon this little Globe is character'd your Fate and Fortune; the History of your Life to come and past-- first, Madam-- you're-- a Whore.
_La Nu._ A very plain beginning.
_Will._ My Art speaks simple Truth; the Moon is your Ascendent, that covetous Planet that borrows all her Light, and is in opposition still to _Venus_; and Interest more prevails with you than Love: yet here I find a cross-- intruding Line-- that does inform me-- you have an Itch that way, but Interest still opposes: you are a slavish mercenary Prostitute.
_La Nu._ Your Art is so, tho call'd divine, and all the Universe is sway'd by Interest: and would you wish this Beauty which adorns me, should be dispos'd about for Charity? Proceed and speak more Reason.
_Will._ But _Venus_ here gets the Ascent again, and spite of-- Interest, spite of all Aversion, will make you doat upon a Man-- [Still looking on, and turning the Ball.
Wild, fickle, restless, faithless as the Winds!-- a Man of Arms he is-- and by this Line-- a Captain-- [Looking on her.] for _Mars_ and _Venus_ were in conjunction at his Birth-- and Love and War's his business.
_La Nu._ There thou hast toucht my Heart, and spoke so true, that all thou say'st I shall receive as Oracle. Well, grant I love, that shall not make me yield.
_Will._ I must confess you're ruin'd if you yield, and yet not all your Pride, not all your Vows, your Wit, your Resolution, or your Cunning, can hinder him from conquering absolutely: your Stars are fixt, and Fate irrevocable.
_La Nu._ No,-- I will controul my Stars and Inclinations; and tho I love him more than Power or Interest, I will be Mistress of my fixt Resolves-- One Question more-- Does this same Captain, this wild happy Man love me?
_Will._ I do not-- find-- it here-- only a possibility incourag'd by your Love-- Oh that you cou'd resist-- but you are destin'd his, and to be ruin'd.
[Sighs, and looks on her, she grows in a Rage.
_La Nu._ Why do you tell me this? I am betray'd, and every caution blows my kindling Flame-- hold-- tell me no more-- I might have guess'd my Fate, from my own Soul have guest it-- but yet I will be brave, I will resist in spite of Inclinations, Stars, or Devils.
_Will._ Strive not, fair Creature, with the Net that holds you, you'll but intangle more. Alas! you must submit and be undone.
_La Nu._ Damn your false Art-- had he but lov'd me too, it had excus'd the Malice of my Stars.
_Will._ Indeed, his Love is doubtful; for here-- I trace him in a new pursuit-- which if you can this Night prevent, perhaps you fix him.
_La Nu._ Hah, pursuing a new Mistress! there thou hast met the little Resolution I had left, and dasht it into nothing-- but I have vow'd Allegiance to my Interest-- Curse on my Stars, they cou'd not give me Love where that might be advanc'd-- I'll hear no more.
[Gives him Money.
Enter Shift.
_Shift._ Sir, there are several Strangers arriv'd, who talk of the old Oracle. How will you receive 'em?
_Will._ I've business now, and must be excus'd, a while.-- Thus far-- I'm well; but I may tell my Tale so often o'er, till, like the Trick of Love, I spoil the pleasure by the repetition.-- Now I'll uncase, and see what Effects my Art has wrought on _La Nuche_, for she's the promis'd Good, the Philosophick Treasure that terminates my Toil and Industry.
Wait you here.
[Ex. _Will._
Enter _Ariadne_ in Mens Clothes, with _Lucia_ so drest, and other Strangers.
_Aria._ How now, Seignior Operator, where's this renowned Man of Arts and Sciences, this Don of Wonders?-- hah! may a Man have a Pistole's Worth or two of his Tricks? will he shew, Seignior?
_Shift._ Whatever you dare see, Sir.
_Aria._ And I dare see the greatest Bug-bear he can conjure up, my Mistress's Face in a Glass excepted.
_Shift._ That he can shew, Sir, but is now busied in weighty Affairs with a Grandee.
_Aria._ Pox, must we wait the Leisure of formal Grandees and Statesmen-- ha, who's this?-- the lovely Conqueress of my Heart, _La Nuche._ [Goes to her, she is talking with _Aurel._
_La Nu._ What foolish thing art thou?
_Aria._ Nay, do not frown, nor fly; for if you do, I must arrest you, fair one.
_La Nu._ At whose Suit, pray?
_Aria._ At Love's-- you have stol'n a Heart of mine, and us'd it scurvily.
_La Nu._ By what marks do you know the Toy, that I may be no longer troubled with it?
_Aria._ By a fresh Wound, which toucht by her that gave it bleeds anew, a Heart all over kind and amorous.
_La Nu._ When was this pretty Robbery committed?
_Ana._ To day, most sacrilegiously, at Church, where you debauch'd my Zeal; and when I wou'd have pray'd, your Eyes had put the Change upon my Tongue, and made it utter Railings: Heav'n forgive ye!
_La Nu._ You are the gayest thing without a Heart, I ever saw.
_Aria._ I scorn to flinch for a bare Wound or two; nor is he routed that has lost the day, he may again rally, renew the Fight, and vanquish.
_La Nu._ You have a good opinion of that Beauty, which I find not so forcible, nor that fond Prattle uttered with such Confidence.
_Aria._ But I have Quality and Fortune too.