SCENE II.

_Enter Don_ John, _and_ Frederick.

_John._ What do you call his name?

_Fred._ Why, _Peter Vecchio_.

_John._ They say he can raise Devils, Can he make 'em Tell truth too, when he has rais'd 'em? for believe it, These Devils are the lyingst Rascals.

_Fred._ He can compel 'em.

_John._ With what? can he Tye squibs in their tails, and fire the truth out? Or make 'em eat a bawling Puritan, Whose sanctified zeal shall rumble like an Earth-quake?

_Fred._ With Spells man.

_John._ I with spoons as soon, dost thou think The Devil such an Asse as people make him? Such a poor coxcomb? such a penny foot-post? Compel'd with cross and pile to run of errands? With _Asteroth_, and _Behemoth_, and _Belfagor_? Why should he shake at sounds, that lives in a smiths forge? Or if he do--

_Fred._ Without all doubt he do's _John_.

_John._ Why should not Bilbo raise him, or a pair of bullyons, They go as big as any? or an unshod Car, When he goes tumble, tumble o're the stones, Like _Anacreons_ drunken verses, [make us tremble?] These make as fell a noise; me thinks the colick Well handled, and fed with small beer--

_Fred._ 'Tis the vertue--

_John._ The vertue? nay, and goodness fetch him up once, H'as lost a friend of me; the wise old Gentleman Knows when, and how; I'le lay this hand to two pence, Let all the Conjurers in Christendom, With all their spells, and vertues call upon him, And I but think upon a wench, and follow it, He shall be sooner mine than theirs; where's vertue?

_Fred._ Thou art the most sufficient, (I'le say for thee) Not to believe a thing--

_John._ O Sir, slow credit Is the best child of knowl[e]dge; I'le go with ye, And if he can do any thing, I'le think As you would have me.

_Fred._ Let's enquire along, For certain we are not far off.

_John._ Nor much nearer. [_Exeunt._