Oh, Jasper! I’m confirm’d my Wife’s a Devil,
And I will send her to the rest e’re Morning;
Go and contrive a Letter from Don John;
Shall intimate he’s sick, and wants my presence,
Then I’le contrive the rest.
Jasp. Be not too rash, my Lord, might I advise
You should be certain e’re you Acted ought.
Anto. How can I be more certain then this Night,
To be Eye-witness of her Lust my self,
As Nurse has undertook I shall.
Jasp. Ay, Sir, but things may fail, and they not meet.
Anto. Name a more certain way then.
Jasp. My Lord, there lives a Woman in the Suburbs,
Mighty in Science, who by Art can tell
All that she pleases, I’de have you go to her.
Anto. Is she of your acquaintance?
Jasp. No, my Lord, she scorns such things as me,
She’s for the great ones; though for Charity,
She sometimes helps poor people to their goods,
I’me sure she’d serve your Lordship.
Anto. I fear she’l never trust us, lest we should betray
Her to the Inquisition.
Jasp. No fear of that, she cannot be betray’d,
She knows Mens bus’ness er’e they come unto her.