SCENE IV.

ALBUMAZAR, TRINCALO.

ALB. Stand forth, transformed Antonio, fully mued From brown soar feathers[314] of dull yeomanry, To th' glorious bloom of gentry: prune yourself sleek;[315] Swear boldly y' are the man you represent To all that dare deny it.

TRIN. I find my thoughts Most strangely alter'd; but methinks my face Feels still like Trincalo.

ALB. You imagine so. Senses are oft deceiv'd. As an attentive angler, Fixing his steady eyes on the swift streams Of a steep tumbling torrent, no sooner turns His sight to land, but (giddy) thinks the firm banks And constant trees more like the running water; So you, that thirty years have liv'd in Trincalo. Chang'd suddenly, think y' are so still; but instantly These thoughts will vanish.

TRIN. Give me a looking-glass To read your skill in these new lineaments.

ALB. I'd rather give you poison; for a glass, By secret power of cross reflections And optic virtue, spoils the wond'rous work Of transformation; and in a moment turns you, Spite of my skill, to Trincalo as before. We read that Apuleius[316] was[317] by a rose Chang'd from an ass to man: so by a mirror You'll lose this noble lustre, and turn ass. I humbly take my leave; but still remember T' avoid the devil and a looking-glass. Newborn Antonio, I kiss your hands.

TRIN. Divine Albumazar, I kiss your hands. [_Exit_ ALBUMAZAR.