Bel. There is no end of this old fellow; thus will he bait me from day to day, till my ignorance be found out.
[Aside.
Alon. Now is he casting a figure by the art of memory, and making a judgment of it to himself. This astrology is a very mysterious speculation.
[Aside.
Bel. 'Tis a madness for me to hope I can deceive him longer. Since then he must know I am no astrologer, I'll discover it myself to him, and blush once for all.
[Aside.
Alon. Well, sir, and what do the stars hold forth? What says nimble master Mercury to the matter?
Bel. Sir, not to keep you longer in ignorance, I must ingenuously declare to you, that I am not the man for whom you take me. Some smattering in astrology I have; which my friends, by their indiscretion, have blown abroad, beyond my intentions. But you are not a person to be imposed on like the vulgar: Therefore, to satisfy you in one word, my skill goes not far enough to give you knowledge of what you desire from me.
Alon. You have said enough, sir, to persuade me of your science; if fame had not published it, yet this very humility of yours were enough to confirm me in the belief of it.
Bel. Death, you make me mad, sir! Will you have me swear? As I am a gentleman, a man of the town, one who wears good cloaths, eats, drinks, and wenches abundantly, I am a damned ignorant, and senseless fellow.
Enter Beatrix.
Alon. How now, gentlewoman?—What, are you going to relief by moonshine?
Beat. I was going on a very charitable office, to help a friend that was gravelled in a very doubtful business.