_Enter_ ELVIRA.
_Elv._ 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.
O, father Dominick, what news?--How, a companion 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._ O, my love!
_Lor._ My life!
_Elv._ My soul! [_They embrace._
_Dom._ I am taken on the sudden with a grievous swimming in my head,
and such a mist before my eyes, that I can neither hear nor see.
_Elv._ Stay, and I'll fetch you some comfortable water.
_Dom._ No, no; nothing but the open air will do me good. I'll take a
turn in your garden; but remember that I trust you both, and do not
wrong my good opinion of you. [_Exit_ DOMINICK.
_Elv._ This is certainly the dust of gold which you have thrown in the
good man's eyes, that on the sudden he cannot see; for my mind
misgives me, this sickness of his is but apocryphal.
_Lor._ 'Tis no qualm of conscience, I'll be sworn. You see, madam, it
is interest governs all the world. He preaches against sin; why?
because he gets by it: He holds his tongue; why? because so much more
is bidden for his silence.
_Elv._ And so much for the friar.
_Lor._ Oh, those eyes of yours reproach me justly, that I neglect the
subject which brought me hither.
_Elv._ Do you consider the hazard I have run to see you here? if you
do, methinks it should inform you, that I love not at a common rate.
_Lor._ Nay, if you talk of considering, let us consider why we are
alone. Do you think the friar left us together to tell beads? Love is
a kind of penurious god, very niggardly of his opportunities: he must
be watched like a hard-hearted treasurer; for he bolts out on the
sudden, and, if you take him not in the nick, he vanishes in a
twinkling.
_Elv._ Why do you make such haste to have done loving me? You men are
all like watches, wound up for striking twelve immediately; but after
you are satisfied, the very next that follows, is the solitary sound
of a single--one!
_Lor._ How, madam! do you invite me to a feast, and then preach
abstinence?
_Elv._ No, I invite you to a feast where the dishes are served up in
order: you are for making a hasty meal, and for chopping up your
entertainment, like a hungry clown. Trust my management, good colonel,
and call not for your desert too soon: believe me, that which comes
last, as it is the sweetest, so it cloys the soonest.
_Lor._ I perceive, madam, by your holding me at this distance, that
there is somewhat you expect from me: what am I to undertake, or
suffer, ere I can be happy?
_Elv._ I must first be satisfied, that you love me.
_Lor._ By all that's holy! by these dear eyes!--
_Elv._ Spare your oaths and protestations; I know you gallants of the
time have a mint at your tongue's end to coin them.
_Lor._ You know you cannot marry me; but, by heavens, if you were in a
condition--
_Elv._ Then you would not be so prodigal of your promises, but have
the fear of matrimony before your eyes. In few words, if you love me,
as you profess, deliver me from this bondage, take me out of Egypt,
and I'll wander with you as far as earth, and seas, and love, can
carry us.
_Lor._ I never was out at a mad frolic, though this is the maddest I
ever undertook. Have with you, lady mine; I take you at your word; and
if you are for a merry jaunt, I'll try for once who can foot it
farthest. There are hedges in summer, and barns in winter, to be
found; I with my knapsack, and you with your bottle at your back: we
will leave honour to madmen, and riches to knaves; and travel till we
come to' the ridge of the world, and then drop together into the next.
_Elv._ Give me your hand, and strike a bargain.
[_He takes her hand, and kisses it._
_Lor._ In sign and token whereof, the parties interchangeably, and so
forth.--When should I be weary of sealing upon this soft wax?
_Elv._ O heavens! I hear my husband's voice.
_Enter_ GOMEZ.
_Gom._ Where are you, gentlewoman? there's something in the wind, I'm
sure, because your woman would have run up stairs before me; but I
have secured her below, with a gag in her chaps.--Now, in the devil's
name, what makes this friar here again? I do not like these frequent
conjunctions of the flesh and spirit; they are boding.
_Elv._ Go hence, good father; my husband, you see, is in an ill
humour, and I would not have you witness of his folly.
[LORENZO _going._
_Gom._ [_Running to the door._] By your reverence's favour, hold a
little; I must examine you something better, before you go.--Heyday!
who have we here? Father Dominick is shrunk in the wetting two yards
and a half about the belly. What are become of those two timber logs,
that he used to wear for legs, that stood strutting like the two black
posts before a door? I am afraid some bad body has been setting him
over a fire in a great cauldron, and boiled him down half the
quantity, for a recipe. This is no father Dominick, no huge overgrown
abbey-lubber; this is but a diminutive sucking friar. As sure as a
gun, now, father Dominick has been spawning this young slender
anti-christ.
_Elv._ He will be found, there's no prevention. [_Aside._
_Gom._ Why does he not speak? What! is the friar possessed with a dumb
devil? if he be, I shall make bold to conjure him.
_Elv._ He is but a novice in his order, and is enjoined silence for a
penance.
_Gom._ A novice, quotha! you would make a novice of me, too, if you
could. But what was his business here? answer me that, gentlewoman,
answer me that.
_Elv._ What should it be, but to give me some spiritual instructions.
_Gom._ Very good; and you are like to edify much from a dumb preacher.
This will not pass, I must examine the contents of him a little
closer.--O thou confessor, confess who thou art, or thou art no friar
of this world!--[_He comes to_ LORENZO, _who struggles with him; his
Habit flies open, and discovers a Sword;_ GOMEZ _starts back._]--As I
live, this is a manifest member of the church militant.
_Lor._ [_Aside._] I am discovered; now, impudence be my refuge.--Yes,
faith, 'tis I, honest Gomez; thou seest I use thee like a friend; this
is a familiar visit.
_Gom._ What! colonel Hernando turned a friar! who could have suspected
you of so much godliness?
_Lor._ Even as thou seest, I make bold here.
_Gom._ A very frank manner of proceeding; but I do not wonder at your
visit, after so friendly an invitation as I made you. Marry, I hope
you will excuse the blunderbusses for not being in readiness to salute
you; but let me know your hour, and all shall be mended another time.
_Lor._ Hang it, I hate such ripping up of old unkindness: I was upon
the frolic this evening, and came to visit thee in masquerade.
_Gom._ Very likely; and not finding me at home, you were forced to toy
away an hour with my wife, or so.
_Lor._ Right; thou speak'st my very soul.
_Gom._ Why, am not I a friend, then, to help thee out? you would have
been fumbling half an hour for this excuse. But, as I remember, you
promised to storm my citadel, and bring your regiment of red locusts
upon me for free quarters: I find, colonel, by your habit, there are
black locusts in the world, as well as red.
_Elv._ When comes my share of the reckoning to be called for?
[_Aside._
_Lor._ Give me thy hand; thou art the honestest, kind man!--I was
resolved I would not out of thy house till I had seen thee.
_Gom._ No, in my conscience, if I had staid abroad till midnight. But,
colonel, you and I shall talk in another tone hereafter; I mean, in
cold friendship, at a bar before a judge, by the way of plaintiff and
defendant. Your excuses want some grains to make them current: Hum,
and ha, will not do the business.--There's a modest lady of your
acquaintance, she has so much grace to make none at all, but silently
to confess the power of dame Nature working in her body to youthful
appetite.
_Elv._ How he got in I know not, unless it were by virtue of his
habit.
_Gom._ Ay, ay, the virtues of that habit are known abundantly.
_Elv._ I could not hinder his entrance, for he took me unprovided.
_Gom._ To resist him.
_Elv._ I'm sure he has not been here above a quarter of an hour.
_Gom._ And a quarter of that time would have served the turn. O thou
epitome of thy virtuous sex! Madam Messalina the second, retire to thy
apartment: I have an assignation there to make with thee.
_Elv._ I am all obedience. [_Exit_ ELVIRA.
_Lor._ I find, Gomez, you are not the man I thought you. We may meet
before we come to the bar, we may; and our differences may be decided
by other weapons than by lawyers' tongues. In the mean time, no ill
treatment of your wife, as you hope to die a natural death, and go to
hell in your bed. Bilbo is the word, remember that and tremble.--
[_He's going out._
_Enter_ DOMINICK.
_Dom._ Where is this naughty couple? where are you, in the name of
goodness? My mind misgave me, and I durst trust you no longer with
yourselves: Here will be fine work, I'm afraid, at your next
confession.
_Lor._ [_Aside._] The devil is punctual, I see; he has paid me the
shame he owed me; and now the friar is coming in for his part too.
_Dom._ [_Seeing_ GOM.] Bless my eyes! what do I see?
_Gom._ Why, you see a cuckold of this honest gentleman's making; I
thank him for his pains.
_Dom._ I confess, I am astonished!
_Gom._ What, at a cuckoldom of your own contrivance! your head-piece,
and his limbs, have done my business. Nay, do not look so strangely;
remember your own words,--Here will be fine work at your next
confession. What naughty couple were they whom you durst not trust
together any longer?--when the hypocritical rogue had trusted them a
full quarter of an hour;--and, by the way, horns will sprout in less
time than mushrooms.
_Dom._ Beware how you accuse one of my order upon light suspicions.
The naughty couple, that I meant, were your wife and you, whom I left
together with great animosities on both sides. Now, that was the
occasion,--mark me, Gomez,--that I thought it convenient to return
again, and not to trust your enraged spirits too long together. You
might have broken out into revilings and matrimonial warfare, which
are sins; and new sins make work for new confessions.
_Lor._ Well said, i'faith, friar; thou art come off thyself, but poor
I am left in limbo. [_Aside._
_Gom._ Angle in some other ford, good father, you shall catch no
gudgeons here. Look upon the prisoner at the bar, friar, 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 see no man but a reverend
brother of our order, whose profession I honour, but whose person I
know not, as I hope for paradise.
_Gom._ No, you are not acquainted with him, the more's the pity; you
do not know him, under this disguise, for the greatest cuckold-maker
in all Spain.
_Dom._ O impudence! O rogue! O villain! Nay, if he be such a man, my
righteous spirit rises at him! Does he put on holy garments, for a
cover-shame of lewdness?
_Gom._ Yes, and he's in the right on't, father: when a swinging sin is
to be committed, nothing will cover it so close as a friar's hood; for
there the devil plays at bo-peep,--puts out his horns to do a
mischief, and then shrinks them back for safety, like a snail into her
shell.
_Lor._ It's best marching off, while I can retreat with honour.
There's no trusting this friar's conscience; he has renounced me
already more heartily than e'er he did the devil, and is in a fair way
to prosecute me for putting on these holy robes. This is the old
church-trick; the clergy is ever at the bottom of the plot, but they
are wise enough to slip their own necks out of the collar, and leave
the laity to be fairly hanged for it. [_Aside and exit._
_Gom._ Follow your leader, friar; your colonel is trooped off, but he
had not gone so easily, if I durst have trusted you in the house
behind me. Gather up your gouty legs, I say, and rid my house of that
huge body of divinity.
_Dom._ I expect some judgment should fall upon you, for your want of
reverence to your spiritual director: Slander, covetousness, and
jealousy, will weigh thee down.
_Gom._ Put pride, hypocrisy, and gluttony into your scale, father, and
you shall weigh against me: Nay, an sins come to be divided once, the
clergy puts in for nine parts, and scarce leaves the laity a tithe.
_Dom._ How dar'st thou reproach the tribe of Levi?
_Gom._ Marry, because you make us laymen of the tribe of Issachar. You
make asses of us, to bear your burthens. When we are young, you put
panniers upon us with your church-discipline; 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 phrase you have amongst you to
draw us into marriage, you call it--_settling of a man;_ just as when
a fellow has got a sound knock upon the head, they say--_he's
settled:_ Marriage is a settling-blow indeed. They say every thing in
the world is good for something; as a toad, to suck up the venom of
the earth; but I never knew what a friar was good for, till your
pimping shewed me.
_Dom._ Thou shalt answer for this, thou slanderer; thy offences be
upon thy head.
_Gom._ I believe there are some offences there of your planting.
[_Exit_ DOM.] Lord, Lord, that men should have sense enough to set
snares in their warrens to catch polecats and foxes, and yet--
Want wit a priest-trap at their door to lay,
For holy vermin that in houses prey. [_Exit_ GOM.