scoveries as
soon as ever, by his Assistance, it should get out of the Clutches of
its Keeper, the Devil; and, if you please, you may let this be the
third Act of this Play. As to the fourth Act, _Faunus_ began, in good
Earnest, everywhere to talk high, and to talk of nothing else in all
Companies and at the Table, and to promise glorious Things to
Monasteries; and talk'd of nothing that was low and mean. He goes to the
Place, and finds the Tokens, but did not dare to dig for the Treasure,
because the Spirit had thrown this Caution in the Way, that it would be
extremely dangerous to touch the Treasure, before the Masses had been
performed. By this Time, a great many of the wiser Sort had smelt out
the Plot, while _Faunus_ at the same Time was every where proclaiming
his Folly; tho' he was privately cautioned by his Friends, and
especially his Abbot, that he who had hitherto had the Reputation of a
prudent Man, should not give the World a Specimen of his being quite
contrary. But the Imagination of the Thing had so entirely possess'd his
Mind, that all that could be said of him, had no Influence upon him, to
make him doubt of the Matter; and he dreamt of nothing but Spectres and
Devils: The very Habit of his Mind was got into his Face, that he was so
pale, and meagre and dejected, that you would say he was rather a Sprite
than a Man: And in short, he was not far from being stark mad, and would
have been so, had it not been timely prevented.

_Tho._ Well, let this be the last Act of the Play.

_Ans._ Well, you shall have it. _Polus_ and his Son-in-Law, hammer'd out
this Piece betwixt them: They counterfeited an Epistle written in a
strange antique Character, and not upon common Paper, but such as
Gold-Beaters put their Leaf-Gold in, a reddish Paper, you know. The Form
of the Epistle was this:

Faunus, _long a Captive, but now free. To_ Faunus, _his gracious
Deliverer sends eternal Health. There is no Need, my dear_ Faunus, _that
thou shouldest macerate thyself any longer in this Affair. God has
respected the pious Intention of thy Mind; and by the Merit of it, has
delivered me from Torments, and I now live happily among the Angels.
Thou hast a Place provided for thee with St. Austin, which is next to
the Choir of the Apostles: When thou earnest to us, I will give thee
publick Thanks. In the mean Time, see that thou live merrily._

_From the_ Imperial Heaven, _the
Ides of_ September, _Anno_ 1498.
_Un