ACT IV.
SCENE I.—A small Room in Valdemere's Apartments. Baron Baurchel is discovered in the Disguise of a Fortune-teller, with Dartz standing by him, adjusting part of his Dress.
Dart. 'Twill do well enough. Stand majestically by this great chair, with your worsted robe thrown over the arm of it; it will spread out your figure, and make it more imposing.—Bravo! you assume the astrological dignity to admiration; the rolling of your eyes under that black hood almost appals me. Be as good an astrologer as you have been an Armenian Jew, Baron, and we shall be triumphant.
Bar. As good, Dartz! if I am not a dolt, I shall be better; for there is no danger of losing my temper now; and being fairly engaged in it, methinks I could assume as many shapes as Proteus, to be revenged on this false hyena and her detestable cub.
Dart. Aye, that is your true spirit. But I must leave you now, and wait in the anti-room for the Count, who will be here presently.
[Exit.
Bar. (after musing some time.) Superlative baseness and ingratitude! That sonnet, of all the sonnets I ever wrote, is the most exquisitely
