Lady Fran. Surely it can't be merely his habit;——there's something in him that awes me.
Flut. Pho! 'tis only his grey beard.—I know him; he keeps a Lottery-office on Cornhill.
Sav. My province, as an Enchanter, lays open every secret to me. Lady! there are dangers abroad—Beware!
[Exit.
Lady Fran. 'Tis very odd; his manner has made me tremble. Let us seek Sir George.
Flut. He is coming towards us.
Courtall comes forward, habited like Sir George.
Court. There she is! If I can but disengage her from that fool Flutter—crown me, ye Schemers, with immortal wreaths.
Lady Fran. O my dear Sir George! I rejoice to meet you—an old Conjuror has been frightening me with his Prophecies.—Where's Mrs. Racket?
Court. In the dancing-room.—I promis'd to send you to her, Mr. Flutter.