Wild. So successfully, that shortly there will be no talk in town, but of you only: Another miracle or two, and a sharp sword, and you stand fair for a new prophet.
Bel. But where did you begin to blow the trumpet?
Wild. In the gaming-house, where I found most of the town-wits; the prose-wits playing, and the verse-wits rooking.
Bel. All sorts of gamesters are so superstitious, that I need not doubt of my reception there.
Wild. From thence I went to the latter end of a comedy, and there whispered it to the next man I knew, who had a woman by him.
Mask. Nay, then, it went like a train of powder, if once they had it by the end.
Wild. Like a squib upon a line, i'faith; it ran through one row, and came back upon me in the next. At my going out I met a knot of Spaniards, who were formally listening to one, who was relating it; but he told the story so ridiculously, with his marginal notes upon it, that I was forced to contradict him.
Bel. 'Twas discreetly done.
Wild. Ay, for you, but not for me: What, says he, must such Boracho's as you take upon you to vilify a man of science? I tell you, he's of my intimate acquaintance, and I have known him long for a prodigious person.—When I saw my Don so fierce, I thought it not wisdom to quarrel for so slight a matter as your reputation, and so withdrew.
Bel. A pox of your success! now shall I have my chamber besieged to-morrow morning: There will be no stirring out for me; but I must be fain to take up their questions in a cleft-cane, or a begging-box, as they do charity in prisons.