Ela.  I cannot conceive thee, but the Design must be good, since Cinthio and Charmante own it.

Scar.  In order to this, Charmante is dressing himself like one of the Caballists of the Rosycrusian Order, and is coming to prepare my credulous Master for the greater Imposition.  I have his Trinkets here to play upon him, which shall be ready.

Ela.  But the Farce, where is it to be acted?

Scar.  Here, here, in this very House; I am to order the Decorations, adorn a Stage, and place Scenes proper.

Ela.  How can this be done without my Father’s Knowledge?

Scar.  You know the old Apartment next the great Orchard, and the Worm-eaten Gallery that opens to the River; which place for several Years no body has frequented; there all things shall be acted proper for our purpose.

Enter Mopsophil running.

Mop.  Run, run, Scaramouch, my Master’s conjuring for you like mad below, he calls up all his little Devils with horrid Names, his Microscope, his Horoscope, his Telescope, and all his Scopes.

Scar.  Here, here,—­I had almost forgot the Letters; here’s one for you, and one for Mrs. Bellemante.
                             [Runs out.

Enter Bellemante with a Book.

Bell.  Here, take my Prayer-Book, Oh Ma tres chere. [Embraces her.

Ela.  Thy Eyes are always laughing, Bellemante.

Bell.  And so would yours, had they been so well employ’d as mine, this morning.  I have been at the Chapel, and seen so many Beaus, such a number of Plumeys, I cou’d not tell which I should look on most; sometimes my Heart was charm’d with the gay Blonding, then with the melancholy Noire, anon the amiable Brunet; sometimes the bashful, then again the bold; the little now, anon the lovely tall:  In fine, my Dear, I was embarass’d on all sides, I did nothing but deal my Heart tout autour.

Ela.  Oh, there was then no danger, Cousin.

Bell.  No, but abundance of pleasure.

Ela.  Why, this is better than sighing for Charmante.

Bell.  That’s when he’s present only, and makes his Court to me; I can sigh to a Lover, but will never sigh after him:—­but Oh, the Beaus, the Beaus, Cousin, that I saw at Church.

Ela.  Oh, you had great devotion to Heaven then!

Bell.  And so I had; for I did nothing but admire its Handy-work, but I cou’d not have pray’d heartily, if I had been dying; but a duce on’t, who shou’d come in and spoil all but my Lover Charmante, so dress’d, so gallant, that he drew together all the scatter’d fragments of my Heart, confin’d my wandering Thoughts, and fixt ’em all on him:  Oh, how he look’d, how he was dress’d!

  SINGS.