Phi. You do displease me with your Unbelief.
Alcan. Why, Sir, do you think there can indeed be Ghosts?
Phi. Pray do not urge my Sense to lose its nature.
Er. It is Alcander, I may trust him too. [She peeps in on them, and comes out.
Phi. Look where she comes again, credit thy Eyes, Which did persuade thee that they saw her dead.
Alcan. By Heaven, and so they did. [Both seem frighted. —Gods—this is wondrous strange! yet I can bear it, If it were the Devil himself in that fair shape.
Phi. And yet thou shakest.
Alcan. I do, but know not why. —Inform us, lovely Spirit, what thou art, A God—or Devil; if either, thou art welcome.
Er. You cannot think, Alcander, there be Ghosts. [She gives her hands to him and Phi. which they refuse to touch. No, give me your hand, and prove mine flesh and blood. —Sir, you were wont to credit what I said, And I would still merit that kind opinion.
Phi. Erminia, Soul of Sweetness, is it you? —How do you ravish with excess of Joys?