_Bell_. We were unreasonable to forbid you that cold Joy, nor shall you wish long in vain, if you bring Matters so about, to get us with my Uncle's Consent.
_Ela_. Our Fortunes depending solely on his Pleasure, which are too considerable to lose.
_Cin_. All things are order'd as I have written you at large; our Scenes and all our Properties are ready; we have no more to do but to banter the old Gentleman into a little more Faith, which the next Visit of our new Cabalist _Charmante_ will complete.
[_The Musick plays_.
_Enter some Anticks, and dance. They all sit the while_.
_Ela_. Your Dancers have performed well, but 'twere fit we knew who we have trusted with this Evening's Intrigue.
_Cin_. Those, Madam, who are to assist us in carrying on a greater Intrigue, the gaining of you. They are our Kinsmen.
_Ela_. Then they are doubly welcome.
[_Here is a Song in Dialogue, with Flute Doux and Harpsicals, between a Shepherd and Shepherdess; which ended, they all dance a Figure Dance_.
_Cin_. Hark, what Noise is that? sure 'tis in the next Room.
_Doctor [Within.] Scaramouch, Scaramouch_!
[Scaramouch _runs to the Door, and holds it fast_.
_Scar_. Ha,--the Devil in the likeness of my old Master's Voice, for it is impossible it should be he himself.
_Char_. If it be he, how got he in? did you not secure the Doors?
_Ela_. He always has a Key to open 'em. Oh! what shall we do? there's no escaping him; he's in the next Room, through which you are to pass.
_Doct. [Within.] Scaramouch_, Knave, where are you?
_Scar_. 'Tis he, 'tis he, follow me all--
[_He goes with all the Company behind the Front Curtain_.
_Doct. [Within.]_ I tell you, Sirrah, I heard the noise of Fiddles.
_Peter. [_Within.]_ No surely, Sir, 'twas a Mistake.
[_Knocking at the Door_.
[Scaramouch _having placed them all in the Hanging, in which they make the Figures, where they stand without Motion in Postures, he comes out. He opens the Door with a Candle in his Hand_.
_Enter the_ Doctor _and_ Peter _with a Light_.
_Scar_. Bless me, Sir! Is it you--or your Ghost?
_Doct_. 'Twere good for you, Sir, if I were a thing of Air; but as I am a substantial Mortal, I will lay it on as substantially-- [_Canes him. He cries_.
_Scar_. What d'ye mean, Sir? what d'ye mean?
_Doct_. Sirrah, must I stand waiting your Leisure, while you are roguing here? I will reward ye. [_Beats him_.
_Scar_. Ay, and I shall deserve it richly, Sir, when you know all.
_Doct_. I guess all, Sirrah, and I heard all, and you shall be rewarded for all. Where have you hid the Fiddles, you Rogue?
_Scar_. Fiddles, Sir!
_Doct_. Ay, Fiddles, Knave.
_Scar_. Fiddles, Sir!--Where?
_Doct_. Here, here I heard 'em, thou false Steward of thy Master's Treasure.
_Scar_. Fiddles, Sir! Sure 'twas Wind got into your Head, and whistled in your Ears, riding so late, Sir.
_Doct_. Ay, thou false Varlet, there's another debt I owe thee, for bringing me so damnable a Lye: my Brother's well--I met his Valet but a League from Town, and found thy Roguery out. [_Beats him. He cries_.
_Scar_. Is this the Reward I have for being so diligent since you went?
_Doct_. In what, thou Villain? in what?
[_The Curtain is drawn up, and discovers the Hangings where all of them stand_.
_Scar_. Why, look you, Sir, I have, to surprize you with Pleasure, against you came home, been putting up this Piece of Tapestry, the best in Italy, for the Rareness of the Figures, Sir.
_Doct_. Ha! hum--It is indeed a Stately Piece of Work; how came I by 'em?
_Scar_. 'Twas sent your Reverence from the _Virtuoso_, or some of the Cabalists.
_Doct_. I must confess, the Workmanship is excellent;--but still I do insist I heard the Musick.
_Scar_. 'Twas then the tuning of the Spheres, some Serenade, Sir, from the Inhabitants of the Moon.
_Doct_. Hum, from the Moon,--and that may be.
_Scar_. Lord, d'ye think I wou'd deceive your Reverence?
_Doct_. From the Moon, a Serenade,--I see no signs on't here, indeed it must be so--I'll think on't more at leisure. [_Aside_.
--Prithee what Story's this? [_Looks on the Hangings_.
_Scar_. Why, Sir,--'Tis--
_Doct_. Hold up the Candles higher, and nearer.
[Peter _and_ Scaramouch _hold Candles near. He takes a Perspective, and looks through it; and coming nearer_ Harlequin, _who is placed on a Tree in the Hangings, hits him on the Head with his Trunchion.
He starts and looks about_. Harlequin _sits still.