Gent. But how should the Devil know it, Thomas?
Tho. Nay, he knows it to be sure; why, they say he knows every thing.
Gent. Well, but why should he be angry at that? he would rather did you lye with her again, and encourage you to lye with forty whores, than hinder you: This can’t be the Devil, Thomas.
Tho. Yes, yes. Sir, ’twas the Devil to be sure.
Gent. But he bid you repent too, you say?
Tho. Yes, he threatn’d me if I did not.
Gent. Why, Thomas, do you think the Devil would have you repent?
Tho. Why no, that’s true too, I don’t know what to say to that; but what could it be? ’twas the Devil to be sure, it could be nobody else?
Gent. No, no, ’twas neither the Devil, Thomas, nor any body else, but your own frighted imagination; you had lain with that wench, and being a young sinner of that kind, your Conscience terrified you, told you the Devil would fetch you away, and you would be damn’d; and you were so persuaded it would be so, that you at last imagin’d he was come for you indeed; that you saw him and heard him; whereas, you may depend upon it, if Jenny S—— will let you lye with her every night, the Devil will hold the candle, or do any thing to forward it, but will never disturb you; he’s too much a friend to your wickedness, it could never be the Devil, Thomas; ’twas only your own guilt frighted you, and that was Devil enough too, if you knew the worst of it, you need no other enemy.
Tho. Why that’s true, Master, one would think the Devil should not bid me repent, that’s true; but certainly ’twas the Devil for all that.