Will. But here, behold the Life and Soul of Man! this is the amorous Pouder, which _Venus_ made and gave the God of Love, which made him first a Deity; you talk of Arrows, Bow, and killing Darts; Fables, poetical Fictions, and no more: ’tis this alone that wounds and fires the Heart, makes Women kind, and equals Men to Gods; ’tis this that makes your great Lady doat on the ill-favour’d Fop; your great Man be jilted by his little Mistress, the Judge cajol’d by his Semstress, and your Politican by his Comedian; your young Lady doat on her decrepid Husband, your Chaplain on my Lady’s Waiting-Woman, and the young Squire on the Landry-Maid—In fine, Messieurs, ’Tis this that cures the Lover’s Pain, And _Celia_ of her cold Disdain. Feth. A most devilish Fellow this! Blunt. Hold, shartlikins, _Fetherfool_, let’s have a Dose or two of this Pouder for quick Dispatch with our Monsters. Feth. Why Pox, Man, Jugg my Giant would swallow a whole Cart-Load before ’twould operate. Blunt. No hurt in trying a Paper or two however. Car. A most admirable Receit, I shall have need on’t. 145 Will. I need say nothing of my divine Baths of Reformation, nor the wonders of the old Oracle of the Box, which resolves all Questions, my Bills sufficiently declare their Virtue. [Sits down. They buy. Enter _Petronella Elenora_ carried in a Chair, dress’d like a Girl of Fifteen. Shift. Room there, Gentlemen, room for a Patient. Blunt. Pray, Seignior, who may this be thus muzzl’d by old Gaffer Time? Car. One _Petronella Elenora_, Sir, a famous outworn Curtezan. Blunt. _Elenora!_ she may be that of _Troy_ for her Antiquity, tho fitter for God _Priapus_ to ravish than _Paris_. Shift. _Hunt_, a word; dost thou see that same formal Politician yonder, on the Jennet, the nobler Animal of the two? Hunt. What of him? Shift. ’Tis the same drew on the Captain this Morning, and I must revenge the Affront. Hunt. Have a care of Revenges in _Spain_, upon Persons of his Quality. Shift. Nay, I’ll only steal his Horse from under him. Hunt. Steal it! thou may’st take it by force perhaps; but how safely is a Question. Shift. I’ll warrant thee—shoulder you up one side of his great Saddle, I’ll do the like on t’other; then heaving him gently up, _Harlequin_ shall lead the Horse from between his Worship’s Legs: All this in the Crowd will not be perceiv’d, where all Eyes are imploy’d on the Mountebank. Hunt. I apprehend you now— [Whilst they are lifting _Petronella_ on the Mountebank’s Stage, they go into the Crowd, shoulder up _Carlo’s_ Saddle. _Harlequin_ leads the Horse forward, whilst _Carlo_ is gazing, and turning up his Mustachios; they hold him up a little while, then let him drop: he rises and stares about for his Horse. 146 Car. This is flat Conjuration. Shift. What’s your Worship on foot? Hunt. I never saw his Worship on foot before.