Your own deserts, and all my people's voice, Bert. He thinks you owe him more than you can pay, And looks as he were lord of human kind. Enter TORRISMOND, ALPHONSO, and PEDRO. My father sent him early to the frontiers, He passed unmarked by my unheeding eyes. Whose fierce demeanour, and whose insolence, Qu. Name his offence, my lord, and he shall have Immediate punishment. So both of you depart, and live in peace. Alph. Who knows which way she points? Doubling and turning like an hunted hare, Find out the meaning of her mind who can. Ped. Who ever found a woman's? Backward and forward. The whole sex in every word. In my conscience, when she was getting, her mother was thinking of a riddle. [Exeunt all but the Queen and TERESA. Qu. Haste, my Teresa, haste, and call him back. Ter. Whom, madam? Qu. Him. Ter. Prince Bertran ? Qu. Torrismond: There is no other he. Ter. [Aside.] A rising sun, Or I am much deceived. [Exit TERESA. Bert. 'Tis of so high a nature, should I speak it, So softly, that, like flakes of feathered snow, That my presumption then would equal his. Ped. [Aside.] Now any tongue itches. Qu. All dumb! On your allegiance, Torrismond, By all your hopes, I do command you, speak. Tor. [Kneeling.] O seek not to convince me of a crime Which I can ne'er repent, nor can you pardon; Desert I have none, for what I did was duty; Qu. Why do you pause? Proceed. Tor. As one condemned to leap a precipice, I'll teach you all what's owing to your queen. The priest to-morrow was to join our hands; They melted as they fell. Enter TERESA with TORRISMOND. Ter. He waits your pleasure. Qu. 'Tis well. Retire.—Oh, Heavens, that I must speak [Aside. So distant from my heart. Tor. I heard 'twas your command. To credit so unlikely a command. Tor. If 'tis presumption for a wretch con To throw himself beneath his judge's feet, Qu. You would insinuate your past services, And those, I grant, were great; but you confess A fault committed since, that cancels all. Tor. And who could dare to disavow his crime, When that for which he is accused and seized, He bears about him still? My eyes confess it; My every action speaks my heart aloud: But oh, the madness of my high attempt Speaks louder yet; and all together cry, I love, and I despair. Qu. Have you not heard, My father with his dying voice bequeathed My crown and me to Bertran? And dare you, A private man, presume to love a queen? Tor. That, that's the wound! I see you set s high, As no desert or services can reach. And crusted it with base plebeian clay ? But I may give you counsel for your cure. In being mad, which none but madmen know! Qu. These are the words which I must only hear From Bertran's mouth; they should displease from you; I say they should; but women are so vain Tor. Am I then pitied? I have lived enough! Tor. A tear! You have o'erbid all my past you To make the best construction for your love. Retire. I must no more but this-Hope, Tor- Tor. She bids me hope! Oh, Heavens, she And pity still foreruns approaching love, One word and one kind glance can cure despair. [Exit. SCENE III-A Chamber. A table and wine set out. Enter LORENZO. Lor. This may hit ; 'tis more than barely possible; for friars have free admittance into every house. This jacobin whom I have sent to is her confessor; and who can suspect a man of such 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 says he's but a friar, but he's big enough to be a pope: his gills are as rosy as a turkey-cock's: his great belly walks in state before him, like an harbinger, and his gouty legs come limping after it: never was such a tun of devotion seen. Lor. Bring him in, and vanish. Enter Father DOMINICK. Lor. Welcome, father. [Exit Serv Dom. Peace be here: I thought I had been sent for to a dying man, to have fitted him for another world. Lor. No, faith, father, I was never for taking such long journeys. Repose yourself, I beseech you, sir, if those spindle legs of yours will carry you to the next chair. Dom. I am old, I anı infirm, I must confess, with fasting. Lor. 'Tis a sign by your wan complexion and your thin jowls, father. Come, to our better acquaintance: Here's a sovereign remedy for old age and sorrow. [Drinks. Dom. The looks of it are indeed alluring: I'll do you reason. [Drinks. Lor. Is it to your palate, father? Dom. Second thoughts, they say, are best: I'll consider of it once again. [Drinks.] It has a most delicious flavour with it. Gad forgive me! I have forgotten to drink your health, son: I am not used to be so unmannerly. [Drinks again. Lor. No, I'll be sworn, by what I see of you, you are not. To the bottom, I warrant him, a true church-man. 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 subject. Lor. Being, in the late battle, in great hazard of my life, I recommended my person to good St Dominick. Dom. You could not have pitched upon a better: he's a sure card: I never knew him fail his votaries. Lor. Troth, I e'en made hold to strike up a bargain with him, that if I escaped with life and plunder, I would present some 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 spoils were mighty; and I scorn to wrong him of a farthing. To make short my story-I inquired among the jacobins for an almoner, and the general has pointed out your reverence as the worthiest man. Here are fifty pieces in this purse. 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 modest, I must force you; for I am strongest. Dom. Nay, if you compel me, there's no contending; but will you set your strength against a decrepid, poor old man? [Takes the purse.] As I said, 'tis too great a bounty; but St Dominick shall owe you another 'scape; 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 kindness, by conveying my prayers to a female saint. Dom. A female saint! Good now, good now; how your devotions jump with mine! I always loved the female saints. Lor. I mean a female, mortal, married-woman saint. Look upon the superscription of this note. You know Don Gomez's wife? [Gives him a letter. Dom. Who? Donna Elvira? I think I have some reason: I am her ghostly father. Lor. I have some business of importance with her, which I have communicated in this paper; but her husband is so horribly given to be jealous Dom. Ho, jealous! He's the very quintessence of jealousy: 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 spiritual affairs. But he has his humours with me too; for t'other day he called me false apostle. Lor. Did he so? 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, so far as a letter, I will take upon me; for what can I refuse to a man so charitably given? Lor. 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 meaning of this letter? that, I confess, 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 so far I am blameless. But an answer you shall have, though not for the sake of your fifty pieces more; I have sworn not to take them; they shall not be altogether fifty. Your mistress-forgive me that I should call her your mistress, I meant Elvira, lives but at next door: I'll visit her immediately; but not a word more of the nine-and-forty pieces. Lor. Nay, I'll wait on you down stairs.-Fifty pounds for the postage of a letter, to send by the church, is certainly the dearest road in Christendom. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-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 sooner I am starved, the sooner I am rid of wedlock. I shall learn the knack to fast a days; you have used me to fasting nights already. Gom. How the gipsey answers me! Oh, 'tis a most notorious hilding. Elv. [Crying. But was ever poor innocent creature so hardly dealt with, for a little harmless chat? Gom. Oh, the impudence of this wicked sex! Lascivious dialogues are innocent chat with you. Eiv. Was it such a crime to inquire how the battle passed? Gom. But that was not the business, gentlewoman: you were not asking news of a battle past; you were engaging for a skirmish that was to come. Elv. An honest woman would be glad to hear that her honour was safe, and her enemies were slain. Gom. [In her tone.] And to ask if he were wounded in your defence; and, in case he were, to offer yourself to be his surgeon. Then you did not describe your husband to him, for a covetous, jealous, rich old hunks. Elv. No, I need not; he describes himself sufficiently; but in what dream did I do this? Gom. You walked in your sleep, with your eyes broad open at noon-day, and dreamed you were talking to the aforesaid purpose with one Colonel Hernando. Elv. Who, dear husband, who? Gom. What the devil have I said? 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 sake. Gom. Get you up into your chamber, cockatrice, and there immure yourself: be confined, I say, during our royal pleasure; but first down on your marrow-bones, upon your allegiance, and make an acknowledgment of your offences; for I will have ample satisfaction." [Pulls her down. Elo. I have done you no injury, and therefore I'll make you no submission; but I'll complain to my ghostly father. Gon. Ay, there's your remedy: when you receive condign punishment, you run with open mouth to your confessor, that parcel of holy guts and garbage; he must chuckle you and moan you; but I'll rid my hands of his ghostly authority one day, Enter DOMINICK. -[Sees and make him know he's the son of ahim.] So-no sooner conjure, but the devil's in the circle. Dom. Son of what, Don Gomez ? Gom. Why, a son of a church; I hope there's no harm in that, father? Dom. I will lay up your words for you till time shall serve; and to-morrow I enjoin you to fast, for penance. Gom. [Aside.] There's no harm in that: she shail fast too: fasting saves money. Dom. [To ELV.] What was the reason that I found you upon your knees, in that unseemly posture? Gom. [Aside.] Oh, horrible! To find a woman upon her knees, he says, is an unseemly posture: there's a priest for you. Eiv. [To Doм.] I wish, father, you would give me an opportunity of entertaining you in private; I have somewhat upon my spirits that presses me exceedingly. Dom. [Aside.] This goes well. Gomez, stand you at a distance-farther yet-stand out of earshot-I have somewhat to say to your wife in private. Gom. [Aside.] Was ever man thus priest-ridden? Would the steeple of his church were in his belly; I am sure there's room for it. Elo. I am ashamed to acknowledge my infirmities; but you have been always an indulgent father, and therefore I will venture to-and yet I dare not. Dom. Nay, if you are bashful—if you keepyour wound from the knowledge of your surgeon Elv. You know my husband is a man in years; but he's my husband, and therefore I shall be silent, but his humours are more intolerable than his age: he's grown so froward, so covetous, and so jealous, that he has turned my heart quite from him, and, if I durst confess it, has forced me to cast my affections on another man. Dom. Good!-Hold, hold; I meant abominable.-Pray Heaven this be my colonel. [Aside. Eiv. I have seen this man, father, and have encouraged his addresses: he's a young gentleman, a soldier, of a most winning carriage; and what his courtship may produce at last I know not, but I am afraid of my own frailty. Dom. [Aside.] 'Tis he, for certain: she has saved the credit of my function, by speaking first: now I must take gravity upon nie. Gom. [Aside.] This whispering bodes me no good, for certain; but he has me so plaguily under the lash, that I dare not interrupt him. Dom. Daughter, daughter, do you remember your matrimonial vow? Elv. Yes, to my sorrow, father, I do remember it: a miserable woman it has made me: but you know, father, a marriage vow is but a thing of course, which all women take when they would get a husband. Dom. A vow is a very solemn thing, and it is good to keep it—but, notwithstanding, it may be broken upon seme occasions. Have you striven with all your might against this frailty ? Elo. Yes, I have striven; but I found it was against the stream. Love, you know, father, is a great vow-maker, but he's a great vow-breaker. Dom. 'Tis your duty to strive always; but, notwithstanding, when we have done our utmost, it extenuates the sin. Gom. I can hold no longer.-Now, gentlewoman, you are confessing your enormities; I know it, by that hypocritical, down-cast look. Enjoin her to sit bare upon a bed of nettles, father; you can do no less in conscience. Dom. Hold your peace: are you growing malapert? Will you force me to make use of my authority? Your wife's a well-disposed and a virtuous lady; I say it, in verbo sacerdotis. Elv. I know not what to do, father: I find myself in a most desperate condition; and so is the colo nel, for love of me. Dom. The colonel, say you? I wish it be not the same young gentleman I know: 'Tis a gallant young man, I must confess, worthy of any lady's love in Christendom; in a lawful way, I mean of such a charming behaviour, so bewitching to a woman's eye, and, furthermore, so charitably given; by all good tokens, this must be my Colonel Hernando. Elv. Ay, and my colonel too, father. I am overjoyed. And are you then acquainted with him? Dom. Acquainted with him! Why, he haunts me up and down; and I am afraid it is for love of you; for he pressed a letter upon me, within this hour, to deliver to you: I confess I recei ved it, lest he should send it by some other, but with full resolution never to put it into your hands. Elv. Oh, dear father, let me have it, or I shall die. Gom. Whispering still! A pox of your close committee! I'll listen; I'm resolved. [Steals nearer. Dom. Nay, if you are obstinately bent to see it, use your discretion; but for my part, I wash my hands on't.-What makes you listening there? Get farther off: I preach not to thee, thou wicked caves-dropper. Elv. I'll kneel down, father, as if I were taking absolution, if you'll but please to stand before me. Dom. At your peril be it then. I have told you the ill consequences, et liberavi animam meam. Your reputation is in danger, to say nothing of your soul. Notwithstanding, when the spiritual means have been applied, and fail, in that case the carnal may be used.-You are a tender child, you are, and must not be put into despair: your heart is as soft and melting as your hand. [He strokes her face, takes her by the hand, and gives the letter. Gom. Hold, hold, father; you go beyond your commission; palming is always held foul play amongst gamesters. Dom. Thus good intentions are misconstrued by wicked men. You will never be warned till you are excommunicated. Gom. [dside.] Ah, devil on him! there's his hold! If there were no more in excommunication than the church's censure, a wise man would lick his conscience whole with a wet finger; but if I am excommunicated, I am outlawed, and then there's no calling in my money. Elo. [Rising.] I have read the note, father, and will send him an answer immediately; for I know his lodging by his letter. Dom. I understand it not, for my part; but I wish your intentions be honest. Remember that adultery, though it be a silent sin, yet it is a crying sin also. Nevertheless, if you believe absolutely he will die, unless you pity him, to save a man's life is a point of charity; and actions of charity do alleviate, as I may say, and take off from the mortality of the sin. Farewell, daughter.-Gomez, cherish your virtuous wife, and thereupon I give you my benediction. [Going. Gom. Stay; l'il conduct you to the door, that I may be sure you steal nothing by the way. Friars wear not their long sleeves for nothing.Oh, it is a Judas Iscariot. [Exit after the Friar. Elo. This friar is a comfortable man! He will understand nothing of the business, and yet does it all. Pray, wives and virgins, at your time of need, For a true guide, of my good father's breed. [Exit. ACT III. SCENE I.-The Street. Dom. Well, I have thought on't, and I will not go. Lor. You may stay, father; but no fifty pounds Enter LORENZO in a Friar's habit, following without it: that was only promised in the bond: DOMINICK. Lor. Father Dominick, Father Dominick ! Why in such haste, man? Dom. It should seem a brother of our order. Lor. No, faith; I am only your brother in iniquity; my holiness, like yours, is mere outside. Dom. What! my noble colonel in metamorphosis! On what occasion are you transformed? Lor. Love, almighty love, that which turned Jupiter into a town bull, has transformed me into a friar. I have had a letter from Elvira, in answer to that I sent by you. Dom. You see I have delivered my message faithfully: I am a friar of honour where I am engaged. Lor. Oh I understand your hint: The other fifty pieces are ready to be condemned to charity. Dom. But this habit, son, this habit! Lor. 'Tis a habit that in all ages has been friendly to fornication: you have begun the design in this clothing, and I'll try to accomplish it. The husband is absent; that evil counsellor is removed; and the sovereign is graciously disposed to hear my grievances. Dom. Go to: go to. I find good counsel is but thrown away upon you. Fare you well, fare you well, son. Ah! Lor. How will you turn recreant at the last cast? You must along, to countenance my undertaking: We are at the door, man. but the condition of this obligation is such, that if the above-named father, Father Dominick, do not well and faithfully perform Dom. Now I better think on't, I will bear you company; for the reverence of my presence may be a curb to four exorbitancies. Lor, Lead up your myrmidon, and enter. Enter ELVIRA in her chamber. Ele. He'll come, that's certain: young appetites are sharp, and seldom need twice bidding to such a banquet. Well, if I prove frail, as I hope I shall not, till I have compassed my design, never woman had such a husband to provoke her, such a lover to allure her, or such a confessor to absolve her! Of what am I afraid, then? Not my conscience; that's safe enough; my ghostly father has given it a dose of church opium, to lull it. Well, for soothing sin, I'll say that for him, he's a chaplain for any court in Christendom. Enter LORENZO and DOMINICK. Oh, Father Dominick, what news? How! a com panion with you! What game have you in hand, that you hunt in couples? Lor. [Lifting up his hood.] I'll shew you that immediately. Elv. Oh, my love! [They embrace. |