fhall catch no gudgeons here. Look upon the prifoner at the bar, Fryar, and inform the court what you know concerning him he is arraigned here by the name of Colonel Hernando.

Dom. What Colonel do you mean, Gomez? I fee na man, but a reverend brother of our order, whofe profeffion I honour, but whofe perfon I know not, as I hope - for Paradife.

Gom. No, you are not acquainted with him; the more's the pity; you do not know him, under this difguife, for the greatest cuckold-maker in all Spain.

Dom. Oh, impudence! Oh, rogue! Oh, villain !---Nay, if he be fuch a man, my righteous fpirit rifes at him! Does he put on holy garments, for a cover-fhame of lewdness?

Gom. Yes, and he's in the right on't, father: when a fwingeing fin is to be committed, nothing will cover it fo clofe as a fryar's hood; for there the devil plays at bopeep, puts out his horns to do a mischief, and then shrinks them back for fafety, like a fnail into her shell.

Lor. [Afide.] It's best marching off while I can retreat with honour. There's no trufting this fryar's confcience; he has renounced me already more heartily than he e'er did the devil, and is in a fair way of profecuting me for putting on thefe holy robes. This is the old churchtrick: the clergy is ever at the bottom of the plot; but they are wife enough to flip their own necks out of the collar, and leave the laity to be fairly hanged for it.' 1Exit Lor.

Gom. Follow your leader, Fryar; your Colonel is trooped off; but he had not gone fo eafily, if I durft have trufted you in the house behind him. Gather up your gouty legs, I fay, and rid my houfe of that huge body of divinity.

Dom. I expect fome judgment fhould fall upon you, for your want of reverence to your fpiritual director. Slander, covetoufnefs, and jealoufy will weigh thee down.

Gom. Put pride, hypocrify, and gluttony into your fcale, father, and you fall weigh against me: nay, if fins come to be divided once, the clergy puts in for nine parts, and scarce leaves the laity a tithe.

Dom. How dareft thou reproach the tribe of Levi?

Gom

Gom. Marry, because you make us laymen of the tribe of Iffachar. You make affes of us, to bear your burdens. When we are young, you put panniers upon us with your church-difcipline; and when we are grown up, you load us with a wife: after that, you procure for other men, and then you load our wives too. A fine phrafe you have amongst you to draw us into marriage: you call it fettling of a man; just as when a fellow has got a found knock upon the head, you fay he is fettled-marriage is a fettling blow indeed. They fay every thing in the world is good for fomething, as a toad, to fuck up the venom of the earth; but I never knew what a fryar was good for, till your pimping fhewed me.

Dom. Thou shalt answer for this, thou flanderer! Thy offences be upon thy head.

Gom. I believe there are fome offences there of your planting. [Exit Dom. Lord, Lord, that men should have fenfe enough to fet fnares in their warrens to catch pole-cats and foxes! And yet

Want wit a priest-trap at their door to lay,
For holy vermin that in houses prey. ¡

SCENE, à Palace.

Queen and Teresa.

Ter. You are not what you were fince yesterday;
Your food forfakes you, and your needful reft;
You pine, you languish, love to be alone;
Think much, fpeak little, and, in fpeaking, figh.
When you fee Torrifmond, you are unquiet;
But when you fee him not, you are in pain.
Qu. Oh, let them never love, who never try'd!
They brought a paper to me to be sign'd;
Thinking on him, I quite forgot my name,
And writ, for Leonora, Torrifmond.

I went to bed, and to myfelf I thought
That I would think on Torrifmond no more;
Then fhut my eyes, but could not shut out him.
I turn'd, and try'd each corner of my bed,
To find if fleep were there, but fleep was loft.
Fev'rish, for want of rest, I rofe, and walk'd,
And, by the moonshine, to the windows went;

[Exit.

• There

There thinking to exclude him from my thoughts.'
I caft my eyes upon the neighbouring fields,
And, ere I was aware, figh'd to myself,

There fought my Torrifmond.

Ter. What hinders you to take the man you love?
The people will be glad, the foldiers fhout,
And Bertran, tho' repining, will be aw'd.
Qu. I fear to try new love;

'As boys to venture on the unknown ice,
That crackles underneath them while they flide,
"Oh, how fhall I defcribe this growing ill!
Betwixt my doubt and love, methinks I ftand
Falt'ring, like one that waits an ague-fit:
• And yet, would this were all !

Ter. What fear

you more ?

Qu. I am afham'd to fay; 'tis but a fancy.
At break of day, when dreams, they fay, are true,
A drowsy flumber, rather than a fleep,

Seiz'd on my fenfes, with long watching worn. • Methought I ftood on a wide river's bank, ← Which I must needs o'erpafs, but knew not how; • When, on a fudden, Torrifmond appear'd, Gave me his hand, and led me lightly o'er, Leaping and bounding on the billows heads, 'Till fafely we had reach'd the farther fhore. ['fcape. Ter. This dream portends fome ill which you fhall Would you fee fairer vifions, take, this night, • Your Torrifmond within your arms to fleep: • And, to that end, invent fome apt pretence To break with Bertran. 'Twould be better yet, Could you provoke him to give you th' occafion,' And then to throw him off."

Enter Bertran at a diftance.

Qu. My ftars have fent him;

For fee, he comes. How gloomily he looks!

If he, as I fufpect, have found my love,

His jealoufy will furnish him with fury,

And me with means to part.

Bert. [Afide.] Shall I upbraid her? Shall I call her

If he be falfe, 'tis what the most defires.

My genius whispers me, Be cautious, Bertran;

[falfe?

Thou

Thou walk'ft as on a narrow mountain's neck,
A dreadful height, with feanty room to tread.
Qu. What bus'nefs have you at the court, my Lord?
Bert. What bus'nefs, Madam!

2. Yes, my Lord, what bus'nefs?

'Tis fomewhat fure of weighty confequence

That brings you here fo often, and unfent for. [enough Bert. [Afide.] 'Tis what I fear'd; her words are cold To freeze a man to death- -May I prefume

To fpeak, and to complain?

Qu. They who complain to princes, think them tame. What bull dares bellow, or what sheep dares bleat, Within the lion's den ?'

Bert. Yet men are fuffer'd to put Heav'n in mind Of promis'd bleffings; for they then are debts.

[give;

Qu. My Lord, Heav'n knows its own time when to But you, it feems, charge me with breach of faith. Bert. I hope I need not, Madam.

But as when men in fickness ling'ring lie,

They count the tedious hours by months and years,
So every day deferr'd to dying lovers,

Is a whole age of pain.

Q. What if I ne'er confent to make you mine?

My father's promife ties me not to time;

And bonds without a date, they say, are void.

you

Bert. Far be it from me to believe Love is the freeft motion of our minds;

Oh, could you fee into my fecret foul,

bound:

There you might read your own dominion doubled,
Both as a queen and miftrefs! If you leave me,
Know, I can die, but dare not be difpleas'd.
Qu. Sure you affect ftupidity, my Lord,
Or give me cause to think, that when you loft
Three battles to the Moors, you coldly ftood
As unconcern'd as now.

Bert. I did my

beft;

Fate was not in my power..

Qu. And with the like tame gravity you faw Araw young warrior take your baffled work, And end it at a blow.

Bert. I humbly take my leave; but they who blast

[He is going.

Your good opinion of me, may have cause

To know I am no coward.

2. Bertran, ftay

[Afide,] This may produce fome dismal confequence To him whom dearer than my life I love.

[To him.] Have I not manag'd my contrivance well,
To try your love, and make you doubt of mine?
Bert. Then was it but a trial?

Methinks I start as from fome dreadful dream,
And often afk myself if yet I wake.

[Afide.] This turn's too quick to be without defign:
I'll found the bottom of 't, ere I believe.

Qu. I find your love, and would reward it too; But anxious fears folicit my weak breast.

I fear my people's faith,

That hot-mouth'd beaft that bears against the curb,
Hard to be broken even by lawful kings,

But harder by ufurpers.

Judge, then, my Lord, with all these cares opprefs'd,
If I can think of love.

Bert. Believe me, Madam,

Thefe jealoufies, however large they spread,
Have but one root, the old imprifon'd King,
Whofe lenity firft pleas'd the gaping crowd;
But when long try'd, and found fupinely good,
Like Efop's log, they leap'd upon his back.
Your father knew them well, and when he mounted,
He rein'd them strongly, and he fpurr'd them hard;
And, but he durft not do it all at once,

He had not left alive this patient faint,

This anvil of affronts, but fent him hence,

To hold a peaceful branch of palm above,

And hymn it in the choir.'!

Qu. You've hit upon the very string, which, touch'd,

Echo's the found, and jars within my foul:

There lies my grief.

Bert. So long as there's a head,

Thither will all the mounting spirits fly;

Lop that but off, and then

Qu. My virtue fhrinks from fuch a horrid act.
Bert. This 'tis to have a virtue out of feason.

• Mercy is good, a very good dull virtue;

E

• But