Scar. Here, here, in this very House; I am to order the Decorations, adorn a Stage, and place Scenes proper.
Ela. How can this be done without my Father’s Knowledge?
Scar. You know the old Apartment next the great Orchard, and the Worm-eaten Gallery that opens to the River; which place for several Years no body has frequented; there all things shall be acted proper for our purpose.
Enter Mopsophil running.
Mop. Run, run, Scaramouch, my Master’s conjuring for you like mad below, he calls up all his little Devils with horrid Names, his Microscope, his Horoscope, his Telescope, and all his Scopes.
Scar. Here, here,—I had almost forgot the Letters; here’s one for you, and one for Mrs. Bellemante. [Runs out.
Enter Bellemante with a Book.
Bell. Here, take my Prayer-Book, Oh Ma tres chère. [Embraces her.
Ela. Thy Eyes are always laughing, Bellemante.
Bell. And so would yours, had they been so well employ’d as mine, this morning. I have been at the Chapel, and seen so many Beaus, such a number of Plumeys, I cou’d not tell which I should look on most; sometimes my Heart was charm’d with the gay Blonding, then with the melancholy Noire, anon the amiable Brunet; sometimes the bashful, then again the bold; the little now, anon the lovely tall: In fine, my Dear, I was embarass’d on all sides, I did nothing but deal my Heart tout autour.