essieurs,

_'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.

_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.

_Car._ This is flat Conjuration.

_Shift._ What's your Worship on foot?

_Hunt._ I never saw his Worship on foot before.

_Car._ Sirrah, none of your Jests, this must be by diabolical Art, and
shall cost the Seignior dear-- Men of my Garb affronted-- my Jennet
vanish