I was not a little surprised to find the devil so great a sophister, but all this notwithstanding, the holy man went on with his exorcism, and to stop the spirit’s mouth, washed his face with a little holy water, which made the demoniac ten times madder than before, and set him a yelping so horribly, that it deafened the company, and made the very ground under us to tremble. “And now,” says he, “you may, perchance, imagine this extravagance to be the effect of your holy water; but let me tell you, that mere water itself would have done the same thing; for your catchpole hates nothing in this world like water [especially that of a Gray’s Inn pump]. But to conclude, they are so reprobated a sort of Christians, that they have quitted even the very name of misins, by which they were formerly known, for that of algouazils; the latter being of Pagan extraction, and more suitable to their manners.”
“Come, come,” says the Father, “there is no ear, nor credit to be given to this villain; set but his tongue at liberty, and you shall have him fall foul upon the Government, and the ministers of justice, for keeping the world in order and suppressing wickedness, because it spoils his market.” “No more chopping of logic good Mr. Conjurer,” says the devil, “for there’s more in’t than you are aware of; but if you’ll do a poor devil a good office, give me my dispatch out of this accursed algouazil; for I am a devil, you must know, of reputation and quality, and shall never be able to endure the gibes and affronts will be put upon me at my return to hell, for having kept this rascal company.” “All in good time,” said the Father, “thou shalt have thy discharge; that is to say, in pity to this miserable creature, and not for thy own sake. But tell me now, what makes thee torment him thus?” “Nothing in the world,” quoth the devil, “but a contest betwixt him and me, which was the greater devil of the two.”
The conjurer did not at all relish these wild and malicious replies; but to me the dialogue was extreme pleasant, especially being by this time a little familiarized with the devil. “Upon which confidence, my good Father,” said I, “here are none but friends; and I may speak to you as my confessor, and the confidant of all the secrets of my soul; I have a great mind, with your leave, to ask the devil a few questions, and who knows but a man may be the better for his answers, though perchance contrary to his intention! keep him only in the interim from tormenting this poor creature.” The conjurer granted my request, and the spirit went on with his babble. “Well,” says he smiling, “the devil shall never want a friend at court, so long as there’s a poet within the walls. And indeed the poets do us many a good turn, both by pimping and otherwise; but if you,” said he, “should not be kind to us,” looking upon me, “you’ll be thought very ungrateful, considering the honour of your entertainment now in hell.” I asked him then what store of poets they had? “Whole swarms,” says the devil; “so many, that we have been forced to make more room for them: nor is there anything in nature so pleasant as a poet in the first year of his probation; he comes ye laden forsooth, with letters of recommendation to our superiors, and enquires very gravely for Charon, Cerberus, Rhadamanthus, Æacus, Minos.”
