Alon. It is, I assure you, sir.
Bel. I am very sorry, for I should have instructed you in such rare secrets! I have no fault, but that I am too communicative.
Alon. I'll dispatch my business, and return immediately; come away, daughter.
[Exeunt Alon. Theo. Beat. and Serv.
Bel. A devil on his learning; he had brought me to my last legs; I was fighting as low as ever was 'Squire Widdrington.
Mask. Who would have suspected it from that wicked elder?
Bel. Suspected it? why 'twas palpable from his very physiognomy; he looks like Haly, and the spirit Fircue in the fortune-book.
Enter Wildblood.
Wild. How now, Bellamy! in wrath! pr'ythee, what's the matter?
Bel. The story is too long to tell you; but this rogue here has made me pass for an arrant fortune-teller.
Mask. If I had not, I am sure he must have passed for an arrant mad man; he had discovered, in a rage, all that Beatrix had confessed to me concerning her mistress's love; and I had no other way to bring him off, but to say he knew it by the planets.