returns

B. Now Faun more fierce to the edge of the circle, and of his own accord, challenges the devil; but he now being more timorous ran away, saying, thou hast deceived me, if I had been wise, I should not have told thee. This is believed by many; what you confess once to the priest is quite wiped out of the memory of the devil that he cannot upbraid you.

A. You tell me a very comical jest.

B. But that I may finish the story at last, a conference was held with the soul in this manner for some days. The upshot came to this. It answered the conjuror asking whether it could any way be delivered from torment, that it might, if the money which it had left, got by cheating, should be restored. Upon that Faun says, what if it should be disposed of to pious uses by good men? it answered that that also would do good. Here the exorcist being rejoiced, inquired with the greatest diligence, how great the sum was. It said a huge one, which was good and convenient for him. It discovered also the place, but a great way distant,

A. For what.

B. That three should undertake a pilgrimage, one of which should go to the thresholds of Peter, another should go to salute James of Compostella; a third should kiss the comb of Jesus, which is at Triers. Then a great quantity of psalms. and masses should be performed through some nasteries. What remained he might dispose of according to his pleasure. Now the whole soul of Faun was in the treasure. He had devoured it with his whole breast.

mo

A. It is a common disease; though priests peculiarly have an ill report upon this account.

B. When nothing had been omitted, that appertained to the business of the money, the conjuror being put in mind of it by Pool, began to ask the soul about the alchymistic art, and of magic. And the soul answered some things to that for that time; but promised that it would discover more, as soon as it was delivered by his means from the pædagogue devil. Let this be, if it seems good, the third act of the play. In the fourth Faun

began to tell of this prodigious thing every where in earnest, to talk of nothing else in company, in feasts, to promise some mighty matters to the monasteries, and he spoke of now nothing at all mean. He goes to the place, finds the marks, yet he durst not dig up the treasure because the soul had thrown in a scruple, that he would do it with great danger, if the treasure should be touched, before the masses were performed. Now the roguery was smelt out by many more cunning people. When notwithstanding he every where published his folly, he was advised privately by his friends, especially by his abbot, that he would not give a different specimen of himself to all men, who hitherto had been accounted a prudent man. Yet he could be moved by no man's talk, from believing that the matter was real: And this imagination seized the mind of the man so thoroughly, that he dreamt of nothing, spoke of nothing, besides ghosts and evil spirits. The habit of his mind had got into his very face, which was so pale, was so thin, so dejected, that you would have said he was ghost, not a man. What needs many words? He was

a

very little removed from real madness, unless he had been relieved by a speedy remedy.

A. Well this will be the last act of the play.

B. I will give it to you. Pool and his son-in-law invented such a trick as this. They forged an epistle writ in rare letters, and that not upon common paper. The subject of the letter was this. Faun sometime ago, a prisoner, now free, wisheth eternal salvation to Faun his very good deliverer. There is no reason, my Faun, why you should trouble yourself any further in this business. God hath regarded the pious intention of your mind, and for the merit of it hath delivered me from punishment: I now live happily amongst the angels. A place is reserved for you near Saint Augustin, which is next to the choir of the apostles. When you come to us, I shall give you thanks face to face. In the mean time, take care that you live mer rily. Given from the Empyrean heaven, on the Ides of September, in the year one thousand four hundred and ninety eight, under the seal of my ring. This letter was laid privately upon the altar, where Faun was to perform divine service. One was suborned, who, that

being over, should tell him of the thing, as if observed by chance. Now he carries about that letter, and believes nothing more certainly than that it was brought from heaven by an angel.

A. That is not to free the man from madness, but to change the kind of madness.

B. So it is indeed, but that now he is more sweetly mad.

A. Heretofore I did not use to give much regard to stories, that are told commonly of apparitions; but hereafter I shall give much less; for I suspect that many things have been delivered in books for true by credulous men, and men like Faun, which have been contrived by the like art.

B. I believe the most part are of this kind.

A. WHAT new thing is there that Lalus laughs so with himself, now and then signing himself with the cross? I will interrupt the felicity of the man. God save you much, my good friend Lalus. You seem to me very happy.

B. But I shall be more happy, if I impart to you this joy.

A. See therefore you make me happy, as soon as possible.

B. Do you know BalbiDus?

A. That learned old man, and of a commendable life.

B. So he is as you say, but there is no one of mankind, who is wise at all hours, or who is in all respects perfect. That man has this blemish amongst many excellent qualities. He has been for some time mad upon the art which they call Alchymy.

A. You do not talk of a blemish truly, but a considerable distemper.

B. Howsoever it is, he so often deluded by this sort of men, yet suffered himself to be imposed upon wonderfully some time ago.

A. After what manner?

B. A certain priest went to him, saluted him respectfully: By and by thus he began, most learned Balbinus, you will wonder perhaps, that I a stranger to you, should break in upon you thus, whom I know to be always very busy in the most sacred studies. Balbinus nodded to him, which is his custom, for he is wonderfully sparing of words.

A. You tell me an argument of his prudence.

B. But the other being more prudent, goes on thus. Yet you will pardon my importunity, if you know the cause why I am come to you. Tell me, says Balbinus, but in a few words, if you can. I will tell you, saith he with as great brevity as I can. You know, most learned sir, that the fates