Scar. Devil,—vanish’d! What can this mean? ‘Tis a Man’s Voice.—If it should be my Master the Doctor now, I were a dead Man;—he can’t see me; and I’ll put my self into such a Posture, that if he feel me, he shall as soon take me for a Church Spout as a Man.
[He puts himself into a Posture ridiculous, his Arms a-kimbo, his Knees wide open, his Backside almost touching the Ground, his Mouth stretched wide, and Eyes staring. Har. groping thrusts his Hand into his Mouth, he bites him, the other dares not cry out.
Har. Ha, what’s this? all Mouth, with twenty rows of Teeth.—Now dare not I cry out, lest the Doctor shou’d come, find me here, and kill me—I’ll try if it be mortal.
[Making damnable Faces and signs of Pain, he draws a Dagger. Scar. feels the Point of it, and shrinks back, letting go his Hand.
Scar. Who the Devil can this be? I felt a Poniard, and am glad I sav’d my Skin from pinking. [Steals out.
[Harlequin groping about, finds the Table, on which
there is a Carpet, and creeps under it, listening.
Enter Bellemante, with a Candle in one Hand,
and a Book in the other.
Bell. I am in a Belle Humor for Poetry to-night; I’ll make some Boremes on Love. [She writes and studies. Out of a great Curiosity,—A Shepherd did demand of me.— No, no,—A Shepherd this implor’d of me. [Scratches out, and writes a-new. Ay, ay, so it shall go.—Tell me, said he, can you resign?— Resign, ay, what shall rhyme to Resign?—Tell me, said he.— [She lays down the Tablets, and walks about.
[Harlequin peeps from under the Table, takes the Book, writes in it, and lays it up before she can turn.
[Reads.] Ay, ay, so it shall be,—Tell me, said he, my Bellemante; Will you be kind to your Charmante? [Reads those two lines, and is amaz’d. Ha, Heav’ns! What’s this? I am amaz’d! —And yet I’ll venture once more. [Writes and studies. —I blushed and veil’d my wishing Eyes. [Lays down the Book, and walks as before. —Wishing Eyes! [Har. writes as before. [She turns and takes the Tablet. —And answer’d only with my Sighs. Ha! What is this? Witchcraft, or some Divinity of Love? Some Cupid sure invisible. Once more I’ll try the Charm. [Writes. —Cou’d I a better way my Love impart? [Studies and walks. —Impart— [He writes as before. —And without speaking, tell him all my Heart. —’Tis here again, but where’s the Hand that writ it? [Looks about. —The little Deity that will be seen But only in his Miracles. It cannot be a Devil, For here’s no Sin nor Mischief in all this.