writes in it, and lays it up before she can turn_.

[_Reads_.] Ay, ay, so it shall be,--_Tell me, said he, my_
Bellemante; _Will you be kind to your_ Charmante?
[_Reads those two lines, and is amaz'd_.
Ha, Heav'ns! What's this? I am amaz'd!
--And yet I'll venture once more. [_Writes and studies_.
--_I blushed and veil'd my wishing Eyes_.
[_Lays down the Book, and walks as before_.
--_Wishing Eyes_! [Har. _writes as before_.
[_She turns and takes the Tablet_.
--_And answer'd only with my Sighs_.
Ha! What is this? Witchcraft, or some Divinity of Love?
Some Cupid sure invisible.
Once more I'll try the Charm. [_Writes_.
--Cou'd I a better way my Love impart?
[_Studies and walks_.
--_Impart_-- [_He writes as before_.
--_And without speaking, tell him all my Heart_.
--'Tis here again, but where's the Hand that writ it?
[_Looks about_.
--The little Deity that will be seen
But only in his Miracles. It cannot be a Devil,
For here's no Sin nor Mischief in all this.

_Enter_ Charmante. _She hides the Tablet, he steps
to her, and snatches it from her and reads_.

_Char_. reads.

_Out of a great Curiosity,
A Shepherd this implor'd of me.
Tell me, said he, my_ Bellemante,
_Will you be kind to your_ Charmante?
_I blush'd, and veil'd my wishing Eyes,
And answer'd only with my Sighs.
Cou'd I a better way my Love impart?
And without speaking, tell him all my Heart_.

_Char_. Whose is this different Character? [_Looks angry_.

_Bell_. 'Tis yours for ought I know.

_Char_. Away, my Name was put here for a blind.
What Rhiming Fop have you been clubbing Wit withal?

_Bell_. Ah! _mon Dieu!--Charmante_ jealous?

_Char_. Have I not cause?--Who writ these Boremes?

_Bell_. Some kind assisting Deity, for ought I know.

_Char_. Some kind assisting Coxcomb, that I know.
The Ink's yet wet, the Spark is near I find.--

_Bell_. Ah, _Malheureuse_! How was I mistaken in this Man?

_Char_. Mistaken! What, did you take me for an easy Fool to be impos'd
upon?--One that wou'd be cuckolded by every feather'd Fool; that you'd
call a _Beau un Gallant Homme_. 'Sdeath! Who wou'd doat upon a fond
She-Fop?--a vain conceited amorous Coquette.
[_Goes out, she pulls him back_.

_Enter_ Scaramouch _running_.

_Sea_. Oh Madam! hide your Lover, or we ar