_Scar_. Sir--
_Doct_. What was that struck me?
_Scar_. Struck you, Sir! Imagination.
_Doct_. Can my Imagination feel, Sirrah?
_Scar_. Oh, the most tenderly of any part about one, Sir!
_Doct_. Hum--that may be.
_Scar_. Are you a great Philosopher, and know not that, Sir?
_Doct_. This Fellow has a glimpse of Profundity. [_Aside. Looks again_.
--I like the Figures well.
_Scar_. You will, when you see 'em by Day-light, Sir.
[Har. _hits him again. The_ Doctor _sees him_.
_Doct_. Ha,--Is that Imagination too?--Betray'd, betray'd, undone! run for my Pistols, call up my Servants, _Peter_, a Plot upon my Daughter and my Niece!
[_Runs out with_ Peter. Scaramouch _puts out the Candle, they come out of the Hanging, which is drawn away. He places 'em in a Row just at the Entrance_.
_Scar_. Here, here, fear nothing, hold by each other, that when I go out, all may go; that is, slip out, when you hear the Doctor is come in again, which he will certainly do, and all depart to your respective Lodgings.
_Cin_. And leave thee to bear the Brunt?
_Scar_. Take you no care for that, I'll put it into my Bill of Charges, and be paid all together.
_Enter the_ Doctor _with Pistols, and_ Peter.
_Doct_. What, by dark? that shall not save you, Villains, Traitors to my Glory and Repose.--_Peter_, hold fast the Door, let none 'scape.
[_They all slip out_.
_Pet_. I'll warrant you, Sir.
[Doctor _gropes about, stamps and calls_.
_Doct_. Lights there--Lights--I'm sure they cou'd not 'scape.
_Pet_. Impossible, Sir.
_Enter_ Scaramouch _undress'd in his Shirt, with a Light; he starts_.
_Scar_. Bless me!--what's here?
_Doct_. Ha--Who art thou? [_Amaz'd to see him enter so_.
_Scar_. I, who the Devil are you, and you go to that?
[_Rubs his Eyes, and brings the Candle nearer, looks on him_.
--Mercy upon us!--Why, what, is't you, Sir, return'd so soon?
_Doct_. Return'd! [_Looking sometimes on him, sometimes about_.
_Scar_. Ay, Sir, did you not go out of Town last night, to your Brother the Advocate?
_Doct_. Thou Villain, thou question'st me, as if thou knew'st not that I was return'd.
_Scar_. I know, Sir! how shou'd I know? I'm sure I am but just awakened from the sweetest Dream.--
_Doct_. You dream still, Sirrah, but I shall wake your Rogueship.--Were you not here but now, shewing me a piece of Tapestry, you Villain?
_Scar_. Tapestry!
[Mopsophil _listning all the while_.
_Doct_. Yes, Rogue, yes, for which I'll have thy Life.
[_Offering a Pistol_.
_Scar_. Are you stark mad, Sir? or do I dream still?
_Doct_. Tell me, and tell me quickly, Rogue, who were those Traitors that were hid but now in the Disguise of a piece of Hangings.
[_Holds the Pistol to his Breast_.
_Scar_. Bless me! you amaze me, Sir. What conformity has every Word you say, to my rare Dream! Pray let me feel you, Sir,--Are you human?
_Doct_. You shall feel I am, Sirrah, if thou confess not.
_Scar_. Confess, Sir! What shall I confess?--I understand not your Cabalistical Language; but in mine, I confess that you wak'd me from the rarest Dream--Where methought the Emperor of the Moon World was in our House, dancing and revelling; and methoughts his Grace was fallen desperately in love with Mistriss _Elaria_, and that his Brother, the Prince, Sir, of _Thunderland_, was also in love with Mistriss _Bellemante_; and methoughts they descended to court 'em in your Absence--And that at last you surpriz'd 'em, and that they transform'd themselves into a Suit of Hangings to deceive you. But at last, methought you grew angry at something, and they all fled to Heaven again; and after a deal of Thunder and Lightning, I wak'd, Sir, and hearing human Voices here, came to see what the Matter was.
[_This while the_ Doctor _lessens his signs of Rage by degrees, and at last stands in deep Contemplation_.
_Doct_. May I credit this?
_Scar_. Credit it! By all the Honour of your House, by my unseparable Veneration for the Mathematicks, 'tis true, Sir.
_Doct_. That famous _Rosycrusian_, who yesterday visited me, and told me the Emperor of the Moon was in love with a fair Mortal--This Dream is Inspiration in this Fellow--He must have wondrous Virtue in him, to be worthy of these divine Intelligences. [_Aside_.--But if that Mortal shou'd be _Elaria_! but no more, I dare not yet suppose it--perhaps the thing was real and no Dream, for oftentimes the grosser part is hurried away in Sleep by the force of Imagination, and is wonderfully agitated --This Fellow might be present in his Sleep,--of this we've frequent Instances--I'll to my Daughter and my Niece, and hear what Knowledge they may have of this.
_Mop_. Will you so? I'll secure you, the Frolick shall go round.
[_Aside, and Exit_.
_Doct. Scaramouch_, if you have not deceiv'd me in this Matter, time will convince me farther; if it rest here, I shall believe you false.
_Scar_. Good Sir, suspend your Judgment and your Anger till then.
_Doct_. I'll do't, go back to bed.