Tick. Ay, ay, ‘tis my hopeful Pupil, upon the same design with me, my life on’t,—cunning young Whore-master;—I’ll cool your Courage—good Signior Diavillo; if you be the Diavillo, I have una certaina Immaterial Invisible Conjuratione, that will so neatly lay your Inanimate unintelligible Diavilloship.— [Pulls out his wooden Sword.
Sir Sig. How! he must needs be valiant indeed that dares fight with the Devil. [Endeavours to get away, Tick, beats him about the Stage.] —Ah, Signior, Signior, Mia! ah—Caspeto de Baccus—he cornuto, I am a damn’d silly Devil that have no dexterity in vanishing.
[Gropes and finds the Door—going out, meets just entring Fillamour, Galliard with all the Musick—he retires, and stands close.
—Hah,—what have we here, new Mischief?—
[Tick. and he stands against each other, on either side of the Stage.
Fil. Prithee how came we to lose ye?
Gal. I thought I had follow’d ye—but ‘tis well we are met again. Come tune your Pipes.— [They play a little, enter Marcella as before.
Mar. This must be he. [Goes up to ‘em.
Gal. Come, come, your Song, Boy, your Song.
Whilst ‘tis singing, Enter Octavio, Julio, Crapine, and Bravos.