Felice. Do you remember what you must say? Torello. I think so. From Thessaly, that land of incantation, Tetragrammaton, Come Hecate and hear my supplication---- Felice. Shemhamphorash. Torello. Shemhamphorash. Felice. You must speak this word very loud; its virtue is great; and the greater mouth you give it, the stronger its power. Shout it again exultantly; for with this word properly spoken, a world might be created. Torello. Shemhamphorash. Felice. Pronounced in a most redundant _ore rotundo_. No witch that ever culled simples with a brazen knife by moonlight could resist such a summons. Torello. Will she indeed come forth to this? Felice. Like a cat from the water. Torello. What shall I say then? Felice. The witch will question you and you must answer her. Torello. What questions? Will she use a book? I could never learn catechism. Felice. Answer anything. It matters little what, so it be spoken reverently. This is the stone; place one foot on it; take off your hat; hold your sword high above your head; place your other hand upon your haunch: now, begin 'From Thessaly.' Torello [prompted by Felice]. From Thessaly, that land of incantation, Tetragrammaton. Come Hecate and hear my supplication, Shemhamphorash. On broomstick ride to grant what I shall ask, Tetragrammaton; Simple to thy skill will be the task, Shemhamphorash. Enter Scipio dressed like a witch.