_Vec._ I cannot. 'Tis all disso[l]v'd again; this was the Figure? _Duke._ The very same, Sir. No hope once more to see it? _Vec._ You might have kept it longer, had ye spar'd it, Now 'tis impossible. _Du._ No means to find it? _Vec._ Yes, that there is, sit still a while, there's Wine To thaw the wonder from your hearts; drink well, Sir. [_Exit_ Vecchio. _John._ This Conjurer is a right good fellow too, A Lad of mettle; two such Devils more Would make me a Conjurer; what wine is it? _Fred._ Hollock. _John._ The Devil's in it then; look how it dances. Well, if I be-- _Pet._ We are all before ye, That's your best comfort, Sir. _John._ By th' Mass, brave Wine; Nay, and the Devils live in this Hell, I dare venture Within these two months yet to be delivered Of a large Legion of 'em. _Enter_ Vecchio. _Du._ Here he comes, Silence of all sides, Gentlemen. _Vec._ Good your Grace, Observe a stricter temper, and you too, Gallants, You'll be deluded all else. This merry Devil That next appears, for such a one you'll find it, Must be call'd up by a strange incantation, A Song, and I must sing it: 'pray bear with me, And pardon my rude Pipe; for yet, ere parting Twenty to one I please ye. _Du._ We are arm'd, Sir. _Pet._ Nor shall you see us more transgress. _Fred._ What think'st thou Now, _John_? _John._ Why, now do I think, _Frederick_, (And if I think amiss Heaven pardon me) This honest Conjurer, with some four or five Of his good fellow Devils, and my self, Shall be yet drunk ere midnight. SONG.