[_They both advance softly, meeting just in the middle of the Stage, and coming close up to each other; both cautiously start back, and stand a tipto in the posture of Fear, then gently feeling for each other, (after listening and hearing no Noise) draw back their Hands at touching each other’s; and shrinking up their Shoulders, make grimaces of more Fear_. _Tick_. _Que Equesto_. Sir _Sig_. Hah, a Man’s Voice!--I’ll try if I can fright him hence. [_Aside_. _Una Malladette Spiritto Incarnate_. [_In a horrible tone_. _Tick_. Hah, _Spiritto Incarnate_! that Devil’s Voice I shou’d know. [_Aside_. Sir _Sig_. See, Signior! _Una Spiritto_, which is to say, _un Spiritalo, Immortallo, Incorporallo, Inanimate, Immaterialle, Philosophicale, Invisible--Unintelligible--Diavillo_. [_In the same tone_. _Tick_. Ay, ay, ‘tis my hopeful Pupil, upon the same design with me, my life on’t,--cunning young Whore-master;--I’ll cool your Courage--good Signior _Diavillo_; if you be the _Diavillo_, I have _una certaina Immaterial Invisible Conjuratione_, that will so neatly lay your _Inanimate unintelligible Diavilloship_.-- [_Pulls out his wooden Sword_. Sir _Sig_. How! he must needs be valiant indeed that dares fight with the Devil. [_Endeavours to get away_, Tick, _beats him about the Stage_.] --Ah, Signior, Signior, _Mia_! ah--_Caspeto de Baccus--he cornuto_, I am a damn’d silly Devil that have no dexterity in vanishing. [_Gropes and finds the Door--going out, meets just entring_ Fillamour, Galliard _with all the Musick--he retires, and stands close_. --Hah,--what have we here, new Mischief?-- [Tick. _and he stands against each other, on either side of the Stage_. _Fil_. Prithee how came we to lose ye? _Gal_. I thought I had follow’d ye--but ‘tis well we are met again. Come tune your Pipes.-- [_They play a little, enter_ Marcella _as before_. _Mar_. This must be he. [_Goes up to ‘em_. _Gal_. Come, come, your Song, Boy, your Song. _Whilst ‘tis singing, Enter_ Octavio, Julio, Crapine, _and Bravos_. The SONG. _Crudo Amore, Crudo Amore, | Il mio Core non fa per te | bis Suffrir non vo tormenti Senza mai sperar mar ce Belta che sia Tiranna, Belta che sia Tiranna Doll meo offerto recetto non e Il tuo rigor singunna Se le pene Le catene Tenta auolgere al mio pie See see Crudel Amore | Il mio Core non fa per te. | bis