Gay. The Devil, for ought I know.
L. Ful. Defend me, Heaven! the Devil?
I hope you have not made a Contract with him.
Gay. No, though in the Shape of Woman it appear’d.
L. Ful. Where met you with it?
Gay. By Magick Art I was conducted—I know not how,
To an inchanted Palace in the Clouds,
Where I was so attended—
Young dancing, singing Fiends innumerable.
L. Ful. Imagination all!
Gay. But for the amorous Devil, the old Proserpine.—
L. Ful. Ay, she—what said she?—
Gay. Not a word: Heaven be prais’d, she was a silent Devil—but she was laid in a Pavilion, all form’d of gilded Clouds, which hung by Geometry, whither I was conveyed, after much Ceremony, and laid in Bed with her; where with much ado, and trembling with my Fears—I forc’d my Arms about her.
L. Ful. And sure that undeceiv’d him. [Aside.