The person on his right, whose name was John Booker, and who, like himself, was a proficient in astrology, was so buried in calculation, that he did not raise his eyes from the paper on the approach of the strangers.  He was a stout man, with homely but thoughtful features, and though not more than a year older than Lilly, looked considerably his senior.  With the exception of a few silver curls hanging down the back of his neck, he was completely bald; but his massive and towering brow seemed to indicate the possession of no ordinary intellectual qualities.  He was a native of Manchester, and was born in 1601, of a good family.  “His excellent verses upon the twelve months,” says Lilly, in his autobiography, “framed according to the configurations of each month, being blessed with success according to his predictions, procured him much reputation all over England.  He was a very honest man,” continues the same authority; “abhorred any deceit in the art he studied; had a curious fancy in judging of thefts; and was successful in resolving love-questions.  He was no mean proficient in astronomy; understood much in physic! was a great admirer of the antimonial cup; and not unlearned in chemistry, which he loved well, but did not practise.”  At the period of this history, he was clerk to Sir Hugh Hammersley, alderman.

The third person,—­a minor canon of Saint Paul’s, named Thomas Quatremain,—­was a grave, sallow-complexioned man, with a morose and repulsive physiognomy.  He was habited in the cassock of a churchman of the period, and his black velvet cap lay beside him on the table.  Like Booker, he was buried in calculations, and though he looked up for a moment as the others entered the room, he instantly resumed his task, without regard to their presence.

After looking earnestly at his visitors for a few moments, and appearing to study their features, Lilly motioned them to be seated; but they declined the offer.

“I am not come to take up your time, Mr. Lilly,” said Wyvil, “but simply to ask your judgment in a matter in which I am much interested.”

“First permit me to return you your purse, sir, since it is from you, I presume, that I received it,” replied the astrologer.  “No information that I can give deserves so large a reward as this.”

Wyvil would have remonstrated.  But seeing the other resolute, he was fain to concede the point.

“What question do you desire to have resolved, sir?” pursued Lilly.

“Shall I be fortunate in my hopes?” rejoined Wyvil.

“You must be a little more precise,” returned the astrologer.  “To what do your hopes relate?—­to wealth, dignity, or love?”

“To the latter,” replied Wyvil.

“So I inferred from your appearance, sir,” rejoined Lilly, smiling.  “Venus was strong in your nativity, though well-dignified; and I should, therefore, say you were not unfrequently entangled in love affairs.  Your inamorata, I presume, is young, perhaps fair,—­blue-eyed, brown-haired, tall, slender, and yet perfectly proportioned.”