And, fince you are too great to be belov❜d, 2. These are the words which I must only hear From Bertran's mouth; they fhould difpleafe from you; I fay they fhould; but women are so vain To like the love, though they defpife the lover. Yet, that I may not fend you from my fight Tor. Am I then pity'd! I have liv'd enough! If that would help, I could cast in a tear Tor. A tear! you have o'erbid all my paft fufferings, And all my future too! 2. Were I no queen. Or you of royal blood Tor. What have I loft by my fore-fathers' fault! Why was not I the twentieth by defcent From a long reftive race of droning kings? Love, what a poor omnipotence haft thou, Qu. [Sighs.] Oh, my torture! Tor. Might I prefume, but, Oh, I dare not hope That figh was added to your alms for me! Qu. I give you leave to guefs, and not forbid you As lightning does the thunder! Tune your harps, One word, and one kind glance, can cure defpair. [Exit. SCENE, SCENE, a Chamber. A table and swine fet out. Enter Lorenzo. Lor. This may hit, 'tis more than barely poffible; for fryars have free admittance into every houfe. This Jacobin, whom I have fent to, is her confeffor; and who can fufpect a man of fuch reverence for a pimp? I'll try for once; I'll bribe him high; for commonly none love money better than they who have made a vow of poverty. Enter Servant. Serv. There's a huge, fat, religious gentleman coming up, Sir; he fays he's but a fryar, but he's big enough to be a pope; his gills are as rofy as a turkey cock's; his great belly walks in ftate before him like an harbinger; and his gouty legs come limping after it: never was fuch a tun of devotion feen. Lor. Bring him in, and vanish. Enter Father Dominick. Lor. Welcome, father. [Exit. Dom. Peace be here: I thought I had been fent for to a dying man, to have fitted him for another world. J Lor. No, faith, father, I was never for taking fuch long journies. Repofe yourself, I beseech you, Sir, if thofe fpindle legs of yours will carry you to the next chair. Dem. I am old, I am infirm, I must confefs, with fafting. Lor. 'Tis a fign by your wan complexion, and your thin jowls, father. Come, to our better acquaintance; here's a fovereign remedy for old age and forrow. [Drinks. Dom. The looks of it are indeed alluring: I'll do reason. Lor. Is it to your palate, father? you [Drinks. Dom. Second thoughts, they fay, are beft: I'll confider of it once again. [Drinks.] It has a moft delicious flavour with it. Gad, forgive me, I have forgotten to drink your health, fon, I am not used to be so unmannerly. [Drinks again. Lor. No, I'll be fworn, by what I fee of you, you are not. To the bottom, I warrant him, a true church-man. Now, Now, father, to our business, 'tis agreeable to your calling; I intend to do an act of charity. Dom. And I love to hear of charity; 'tis a comfortable fubject. Lor. Being in the late battle, in great hazard of my life, I recommended my perfon to good St. Dominick. Dom. You could not have pitched upon a better: he's a fure card: I never knew him fail his votaries. Lor. Troth I e'en made bold to ftrike up a bargain with him, that if I 'fcaped with life and plunder, I would prefent fome brother of his order with part of the booty taken from the infidels, to be employed in charitable uses. Dom. There you hit him; St. Dominick loves charity exceedingly; that argument never fails with him. Lor. The fpoils were mighty; and I fcorn to wrong him of a farthing. To make fhort my ftory; I enquired among the Jacobins for an almoner, and the General has pointed out your reverence as the worthiest man : here are fifty pieces in this purfe. Dom. How! fifty pieces? 'tis too much, too much in conscience. Lor. Here, take them, father. Dom. No, in troth, I dare not: do not tempt me to break my vow of poverty. Lor. If you are modeft, I must force you; for I am strongest, Dom. Nay, if you compel me, there's no contending; but will you fet your strength against a decrepit, poor, old man? [Takes the purfe.] As I faid, 'tis too great a bounty? But St. Dominick fhall owe you another 'fcape; I'll put him in mind of you. Lor. If you please, father, we will not trouble him 'till the next battle. But you may do me a greater kindnefs, by conveying my prayers to a female faint. Dom. A female faint! good now, good now, hew your devotions jump with mine! I always loved the female faints. Lor. I mean a female, mortal, married-woman faint. Look upon the fuperfcription of this note; you know Don Gomez's wife. [Gives him a letter. Dem. 1 Dom. Who, Donna Elvira? I think I have fome reafon; I am her ghoftly father. Lor. I have fome bufinefs of importance with her, which I have communicated in this paper; but her husband is fo horribly given to be jealous. Dom. Ho, jealous! he's the very quinteffence of jealoufy he keeps no male creature in his house; and from abroad he lets no man come near her.. Lor. Excepting you, father. Dom. Me, I grant you: I am her director and her guide in fpiritual affairs. But he has his humours with me too; for t'other day, he called me falfe apoftle. Lor. Did he fo? that reflects upon you all; on my word, father, that touches your copyhold. If you would do a meritorious action, you might revenge the church's quarrel. My letter, father, Dom. Well, fo far as a letter, I will take upon me; for what can I refuse to a man fo charitably given? Lar. If you bring an answer back, that purse in your hand has a twin-brother, as like him as ever he can look; there are fifty pieces lie dormant in it, for more charities. Dom. That must not be: not a farthing more, upon my priesthood. But what may be the purport and mean. ing of this letter; that, I confefs, a little troubles me. Lor. No harm, I warrant you. Dom. Well, you are a charitable man; and I'll take your word: my comfort is, I know not the contents; and fo far I am blameless. But an answer you shall have; though not for the fake of your fifty pieces more: I have fworn not to take them, they fhall not be altogether fifty your miftrefs-forgive me that I fhould call her your miftrefs, I meant Elvira, lives but at next door: I'll vifit her immediately: but not a word more of the nine and forty pieces. Lor. Nay, I'll wait on you down ftairs. Fifty pounds for the postage of a letter! to fend by the church is certainly the dearest road in Christendom. [Excunt. SCENE, a Chamber. Enter Gomez and Elvira. Gom. Henceforth I banish flesh and wine: I'll have none stirring within these walls these twelve months. Elv. I care not; the fooner I am starved, the fooner I am rid of wedlock. I fhall learn the knack to fast a days you have ufed me to fafting nights already. Gom. How the gipfey answers me! Oh, 'tis a most notorious hilding. Elv. [Crying. But was ever poor innocent creature fo hardly dealt with, for a little harinless chat? Gom. Oh, the impudence of this wicked fex!" Lafcivious dialogues are innocent chat with you! Elv. Was it fuch a crime to enquire how the battle paffed? Gom. But that was not the bufinefs, gentlewoman; you were not afking news of a battle paffed; you were engaging for a skirmish that was to come. Elv. An honeft woman would be glad to hear, that her honour was safe, and her enemies were flain. Gom. [In her tone.] And to afk, if he were wounded in your defence; and, in cafe he were, to offer yourself to be his furgeon; then you did not defcribe your husband to him, for a covetous, jealous, rich, old hunks. Elv. No, I need not: he defcribes himself sufficiently: but, in what dream did I do this? Gom. You walked in your fleep, with your eyes broad open, at noon-day; and dreamed you were talking to the forefaid purpofe with one Colonel Hernando Elv. Who, dear husband, who? Gom, What the devil have I faid? You would have farther information, would you. Elv. No, but my dear, little old man, tell me now; that I may avoid him for your fake. Gom. Get you up into your chamber, cockatrice; and there immure yourfelf: be confined, I fay, during our royal pleasure: but, first, down on your marrowbones, upon your allegiance, and make an acknowledgement of your offences; for I will have ample fatisfaction. [Pulls her down. Elv. I have done you no injury, and therefore I'll make you no fubmiffion : but I'll complain to my ghostly father. Gom. Ay; there's your remedy: when you receive condign punishment, you run with open mouth to your confeffor; that parcel of holy guts and garbage: he muft chuckle |