[Melinda writes, Lucy holds the Paper.
Lucy. Let me see it, madam; 'tis the same—the very same—But I'll secure one copy for my own affairs. [Aside.
Mel. This is demonstration.
Kite. 'Tis so, madam—the word demonstration comes from Dæmon, the father of lies.
Mel. Well, doctor, I'm convinced: and now, pray, what account can you give of my future fortune?
Kite. Before the sun has made one course round this earthly globe, your fortune will be fixed for happiness or misery.
Mel. What! so near the crisis of my fate?
Kite. Let me see—About the hour of ten to-morrow morning you will be saluted by a gentleman who will come to take his leave of you, being designed for travel; his intention of going abroad is sudden, and the occasion a woman. Your fortune and his are like the bullet and the barrel, one runs plump into the other—In short, if the gentleman travels, he will die abroad, and if he does you will die before he comes home.
Mel. What sort of a man is he?
Kite. Madam, he's a fine gentleman, and a lover; that is, a man of very good sense, and a very great fool.