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THE
_Old DEBAUCHEES._
A
COMEDY.
As it is Acted at the THEATRE-ROYAL
in DRURY-LANE.
By His MAJESTY's Servants.
By the Author of the MODERN HUSBAND.
_LONDON_:
Printed for J. W. And Sold by J. ROBERTS in
_Warwick-Lane_, MDCCXXXII.
[Price One Shilling.]
PROLOGUE.
Spoken by Mr. _William Mills_.
_I Wish, with all my Heart, the Stage and Town
Would both agree to cry all Prologues down;
That we, no more oblig'd to say or sing,
Might drop this useless necessary Thing:
No more with aukward Strut, before the Curtain,
Chaunt out some Rhimes--there's neither good nor hurt in._
_What is this Stuff the Poets make us deal in,
But some old worn-out Jokes of their Retailing:
From Sages of our own, or former Times,
Transvers'd from Prose, perhaps transpros'd from Rhimes._
_How long the Tragick Muse her Station kept, }
How Guilt was humbl'd, and how Tyrants wept, }
Forgetting still how often Hearers slept._ }
_Perhaps, for Change, you, now and then, by Fits,
Are told that Criticks are the Bane of Wits;
How they turn Vampyres, being dead and damn'd,
And with the Blood of living Bards are cramm'd:
That Poets thus tormented die, and then
The Devil gets in them, and they suck agen._
_Thus modern Bards, like Bays, their Prologues frame, }
For this, and that, and every Play the same, }
Which you, most justly, neither praise nor blame._ }
_As something must be spoke, no matter what;
No Friends are now by Prologues lost or got;
By such Harangues we raise nor Spleen, nor Pity--
Thus ends this idle, but important Ditty._
Dramatis Personae.
MEN.
_Old Laroon._ Mr. _Shepard_.
_Young Laroon._ Mr. _Mills_, Junior.
_Father Martin._ Mr. _Cibber_, Junior.
_Old Jourdain._ Mr. _Roberts_.
WOMEN.
_Isabel._ Miss _Raftor_.
_Beatrice._ Miss _Williams_.
SCENE _THOULON_.
THE
_Old DEBAUCHEES._
ACT I. SCENE I.
SCENE, _Mr._ Jourdain'_s_.
Isabel, Beatrice.
ISABEL.
A Nunnery! Ha, ha, ha! And is it possible, my dear _Beatrice_, you can
intend to sacrifice your Youth and Beauty, to go out of the World as
soon as you come into it!
_Bea._ No one, my dear _Isabel_, can sacrifice too much or too soon to
Heaven.
_Isa._ Pshaw! Heaven regards Hearts and not Faces, and an old Woman will
be as acceptable a Sacrifice as a young one.
_Bea._ It is possible you may come to a better Understanding, and value
the World as little as I do.
_Isa._ As you say, it is possible when I can enjoy it no longer, I may;
nay, I do not care if I promise you when I grow old and ugly, I'll come
and keep you Company: But this I am positive, till the World is weary of
me, I never shall be weary of the World.
_Bea._ What can a Woman of Sense see in it worth her valuing?
_Isa._ Oh! ten thousand pretty things! Equipage, Cards, Musick, Plays,
Balls, Flattery, Visits, and that prettiest thing of all pretty things,
a pretty Fellow----I rather wonder what Charms a Woman of any Spirit can
fancy in a Nunnery, in watching, working, praying, and sometimes, I am
afraid, wishing for other Company than that of an old fusty Friar--Oh!
'tis a delightful State, when every Man one sees, instead of tempting us
to Sin, is to rebuke us for them.
_Bea._ Such Sentiments as these would indeed make you very uneasy--but
believe me, Child, you would soon bring yourself to hate Mankind;
fasting and praying are the best Cures in the World for these violent
Passions.
_Isa._ On my Conscience I should want neither; if the continual Sight of
a Set of dirty Priests would not bring me to abhor Mankind, I dare swear
nothing could.
SCENE II.
_Old_ Laroon, Isabel, Beatrice.
_Old Lar._ Good-morrow, my little Wag-tail--my Grashopper, my Butterfly.
Odso! you little Baggage, you look as full of----as full of Love and
Sport and Wantonness----I wish I was a young Fellow again----Oh! that I
was but five and twenty for thy sake. Where's my Boy? What, has not he
been with you, has not he serenaded you?--Odsheart--I never let his
Mother sleep for a Month before I married her.
_Isa._ Indeed!
_Old Lar._ No Madam, nor for a Month afterwards neither. The young
Fellows of this Age are nothing, mere Butterflies, to those of
ours----Odsheart I remember the Time, when I could have taken a Hop,
Step, and Jump over the Steeple of _Notre Dame_.
_Bea._ I fancy the Sparks of your Age had Wings, Sir.
_Old Lar._ Wings, you little Baggage, no--but they had--they had Limbs,
like Elephants, and as strong they were as _Sampson_, and as swift
as----Why, I have my self run down a Stag in a fair Chace, and eat him
afterwards for my Dinner. But come, where is my old Neighbour, my old
Friend, my old _Jourdain_?
_Isa._ At his Devotions, I suppose, this is the Hour he generally
employs in them.
_Old Lar._ This Hour! ay, all Hours. I dare swear he spends more Time in
them, than all the Priests in _Toulon_. Well, give him his due, he was
wicked as long as he could be so, and when he could sin no longer, why
he began to repent that he had sinned at all. Oh! there is nothing so
devout as an old Whoremaster.
_Bea._ I fancy then it will be shortly Time for you to think of it, Sir!
_Old Lar._ Ay, Madam, about some thirty or forty Years hence it
may----Odsheart! I am but in the prime of my Years yet: And if it was
not for a saucy young Rascal who looks me in the Face and calls me
Father, might make a very good Figure among the Beaus. But tho' I am not
so young in Years, I am in Constitution as any of them; and I don't
question but to live to see a Son and a great Grandson both born on the
same Day.
_Isa._ You will excuse this Lady, Mr. _Laroon_, who is going to retire
so much earlier--
_Old Lar._ Retire!----Then it is with a young Fellow, I hope.
_Isa._ Into a Cloister, I assure you.
_Old Lar._ A Cloister!--Why, Madam, if you have a mind to hang your self
at the Year's End; would it not be better to spend your Time in
Matrimony than in a Nunnery? Don't let a Set of rascally Priests put
strange Notions in your Head. Take my Word for it, and I am a very
honest Fellow, there are no Raptures worth a Louse, but those in the
Arms of a brisk young Cavalier. Of all the Actions of my Youth, there
are none I reflect on with so much Pleasure as having burnt half a Dozen
Nunneries, and delivered several hundred Virgins out of Captivity.
_Bea._ Oh! Villany! unheard of Villany!
_Isa._ Unheard of till this Moment I dare swear.
_Old Lar._ Out of which Number there are at present nine Countesses,
three Dutchesses, and a Queen, who owe their Liberty and their Promotion
to this Arm.
SCENE III.
_Old_ Laroon, _Young_ Laroon, Isabel, Beatrice.
_Old Lar._ You are a fine Spark truly to let your Father visit your
Mistress before you--'Sdeath! I believe you are no Son of mine. Where
have you been, Sir? What have you been doing, Sir, hey?
_Y. Lar._ Sir, I have been at my Devotions.
_Old Lar._ At your Devotions! nay, then you are no Son of mine, that's
certain. Is not this the Shrine you are to offer up at, Sirrah! Is not
here the Altar you are to officiate at?--Sirrah! you have no Blood of
mine in you. I believe you are the Bastard of some travelling _English_
Alderman, and must have come into the World with a Custard in your
Mouth.
_Y. Lar._ I hope, Madam, you will allow my Excuse, tho' the old
Gentleman here will not.
_Old Lar._ Old Gentleman! very fine! Sirrah! I'll convince you I am a
young Gentleman; I'll marry to-night, and make you a Brother before you
are a Father; I'll teach you to thrust him out of the World that thrust
you into it----Madam, have no more to say to the ungracious Dog.
_Y. Lar._ That will be a sure way to quit all Obligations between us;
for the Happiness I propose in this Lady, is the chief Reason why I
should thank you for bringing me into the World.
_Old Lar._ What's that you say, Sir; say that again, Sir.
_Y. Lar._ I was only thanking you, Sir, for desiring this Lady to take
from me all I esteem on Earth.
_Old Lar._ Well enough that! I begin to think him my own again. I have
made that very Speech to half the Women in _Paris_.
SCENE IV.
_To them_ Martin.
_Mart._ Peace be with you all, Good People.
_Old Lar._ Peace cannot stay long in any Place where a Priest comes.
[_Aside._
_Mart._ Daughter, I am ready to receive your Confession--
_Old Lar._ Ay, ay, she has a fine Parcel of sinful Thoughts to answer
for, I warrant her.
_Mart._ Mr. _Laroon_, you are too much inclined to Slander, I must
reprove you for it. My Daughter's Thoughts are as pure as a Saint's.
_Old Lar._ As any Saint's in Christendom within a Day of Matrimony.
_Mart._ Within a Day of Matrimony; it is too quick; I have not yet had
sufficient Time to prepare her Mind for that solemn Sacrament.
_Old Lar._ Prepare her Mind for a young Fellow; prepare your Mind for a
Bishoprick.
_Mart._ Sir, there are Ceremonies requisite, I shall be as expeditious
as possible, but the Church has Rules.
_Old Lar._ Sir, you may be as expeditious or as slow as you please, but
I will not have my Boy disappointed of his Happiness one Day, for all
the Rules in _Europe_.
SCENE V.
Martin, Isabel.
_Mart._ I shall bring this Haughtiness to a Penance, you may not like.
Well, my dear Daughter, I hope your Account is not long. You have not
many Articles since our last Reckoning.
_Isa._ I wish you do not think it so, Father. First, telling nine Lyes
at the Opera the other Night to Mr. _Laroon_; yesterday talk'd during
the whole Mass to a young Cavalier, [_he groans._] Nay, if you groan
already, I shall make you groan more before I have done; last Night
cheated at Cards, scandalized three of my Acquaintance, went to Bed
without saying my Prayers, and dreamt of Mr. _Laroon_.
_Mart._ Oh!--Tell me the Particulars of that Dream.
_Isa._ Nay, Father, that I must be excus'd.
_Mart._ Modesty at Confession is as unseasonable as in Bed, and your
Mind should appear as naked to your Confessor, as your Person to your
Husband.
_Isa._ I thought he embraced me with the utmost Tenderness.
_Mart._ But were you pleased therewith?
_Isa._ You know, Father, a Lye now would be the greatest of Sins. I was
not displeased I assure you. But I have often heard you say, there is no
Sin in Love.
_Mart._ No, in Love it self there is not: Love is not _Malum in se_. Nor
in the Excess is there sometimes any: but then it must be rightly
placed, must be directed to a proper Object. The Love a Daughter bears
her Confessor is no doubt not only innocent, but extremely laudable.
_Isa._ Yes, but that--that is another sort of Love, you know.
_Mart._ You are deceived, there is but one sort of Love which is
justifiable, or, indeed, desirable.
_Isa._ I hope my Love for _Laroon_ is that.
_Mart._ That I know not, I wish it may; however, I have some Dispute as
yet remaining with me concerning it; 'till that be satisfied, it will be
improper for you to proceed any farther in the Affair. All the Penance,
therefore, I shall enjoin you on this Confession, is to defer your
Marriage one Week; by which time I shall have resolved within my self
whether you shall marry him at all.
_Isa._ Not marry him at all? Sure, Father, you are not in earnest.
_Mart._ I never jest on these Occasions.
_Isa._ What Reason can you have?
_Mart._ My Reasons may not be so ripe for your Ears at present. But,
perhaps, better things are designed for you.
_Isa._ A Fidlestick! I tell you, Father, better things cannot be
designed for me. I suppose, you have found out some old Fellow with
twenty Livres a Year more in his Power; but I can assure you, if I marry
not _Laroon_, I'll not marry any.
_Mart._ Perhaps you are not designed to marry any. Let me feel your
Pulse----Extremely feverish.
_Isa._ You are enough to put any one in a Fever. I was to have been
married to-morrow to a pretty Fellow, and now I must defer my Marriage,
'till you have consider'd whether I shall marry at all or no.
_Mart._ Have you any more Sins to confess!
_Isa._ Sins!--You have put all my Sins out of my Head, I think.
_Mart._ Benedicite--[_crossing himself._] Daughter, you shall see me
soon again, for great things are in Agitation; At present, I leave you
to your Prayers.
SCENE V.
Isabel _alone_.
_Isa._ Sure never poor Maid had more need of Prayers: but you have left
me no great Stomach to them. Great things are in Agitation! What can he
mean? It must be so----Some old liquorish Rogue with a Title, or a
larger Estate hath a mind to supplant my dear _Laroon_.
SCENE VI.
_Young_ Laroon, Isabel.
_Yo. Lar._ My _Isabel_, my Sweet!--how painfully do I count each tedious
Hour, till I can call you mine?
_Isa._ Indeed, you are like to count many more tedious Hours than you
imagine.
_Yo. Lar._ Ha! What means my Love?
_Isa._ I would not have your Wishes too impatient, that's all; but if
you will wait a Week, you shall know whether I intend to marry you or
not.
_Yo. Lar._ And is this possible? Can Words like these fall from
_Isabel_'s sweet Lips; can she be false, inconstant, perjured?
_Isa._ Oh! do not discharge such a Volley of terrible Names upon me
before you are certain I deserve them; doubt only whether I can be
obedient to my Confessor, and guess the rest.
_Yo. Lar._ Can he have enjoined you to be perjured, by Heaven it would
be sinful to obey him.
_Isa._ Be satisfied, if I prevail with my self to obey him in this
Week's Delay, I will carry my Obedience no farther.
_Yo. Lar._ Oh! to what Happiness have those dear Words restor'd me. I am
again my self: for while the Possession of thee is sure, tho' distant,
there is in that dear Hope, more Transport than any other actual
Enjoyment can afford.
_Isa._ Well adieu, and to cram you quite full with Hope (since you like
the Food) I here promise you, that the Commands of all the Priests in
_France_ shall not force me to marry another. That is, Sir, I will
either marry you or die a Maid, and I have no violent Inclination to the
latter, on the Word of a Virgin.
SCENE VII.
_Young_ Laroon _solus_.
Whether a violent Hatred to my Father, or an inordinate Love for
Mischief, hath set the Priest on this Affair, I know not. Perhaps it is
the former----for the old Gentleman hath the Happiness of being
universally hated by every Priest in _Toulon_----Let a Man abuse a
Physician, he makes another Physician his Friend, let him rail at a
Lawyer, another will plead his Cause gratis; if he libel this Courtier,
that Courtier receives him into his Bosom: but let him once attack a
Hornet or a Priest, the whole Nest of Hornets, and the whole Regiment of
Black-guards are sure to be upon him.
SCENE VIII.
_Old_ Laroon _laughing_, _Young_ Laroon.
_Yo. Lar._ You are merry, Sir.
_Old. Lar._ Merry, Sir! Ay, Sir! I am merry, Sir. Would you have your
Father sad, you Rascal? Have you a mind to bury him in his Youth?
_Yo. Lar._ Pardon me, Sir, I rather wished to know the happy Occasion of
your Mirth.
_Old Lar._ The Occasion of my Mirth, Sir, is the saddest Sight that ever
Mortal beheld.
_Yo. Lar._ A very odd Occasion indeed.
_Old Lar._ Very odd truly. It is the Sight of an old honest Whoremaster
in a Fit of Despair, and a damned Rogue of a Priest riding him to the
Devil.
_Yo. Lar._ Ay, Sir, but I have seen a more melancholy Sight.
_Old Lar._ Ha! what can that be?
_Yo. Lar._ A fine young Lady in a Fit of Love, and a Priest keeping her
from her Lover.
_Old Lar._ How?
_Yo. Lar._ The Explanation of which is, that Father Martin hath put off
our Match for a Week.
_Old. Lar._ Put off your Match with _Isabel_!
_Yo. Lar._ Even so, Sir.
_Old Lar._ Well I never have made a Hole in a Gown yet, I never have
tapped a Priest: but if I don't let out some reverend Blood before the
Sun sets, may I never See him rise again. I'll carbonade the Villain,
I'll make a Ragout for the Devil's Supper of him.
_Yo. Lar._ Let me intreat you, Sir, to do nothing rashly, as long as I
am safe in the Faith of my _Isabel_.
_Old Lar._ I tell you, Sirrah, no Man is safe in the Faith of a
Mistress, no one is secure of a Woman till he is in Bed with her. Had
there been any Security in the Faith of a Mistress, I had been at
present married to half the Dutchesses in _France_. I no more rely on
what a Woman says out of a Church, than on what a Priest says in it.
_Yo. Lar._ Pardon me, Sir: but I should have very little Appetite to
marry the Woman whom I had such an Opinion of.
_Old Lar._ You had an Opinion of! What Business have you to have any
Opinion. Is it not enough that I have an Opinion of her, that is of her
Fortune--But I suppose you are one of those romantick, whining Coxcombs,
that are in Love with a Woman behind her Back: Sirrah, I have had two
Women lawfully, and two thousand unlawfully, and never was in Love in my
Life.
_Yo. Lar._ Well, Sir, then I am happy, that we both agree in the same
Person; I like the Woman, and you her Fortune.
_Old. Lar._ Yes, you Dog, and I'd have you secure her as soon as you
can: for if a greater Fortune should be found out in _Toulon_, I'd make
you marry her--So go find out your Mistress, and stick close to her, and
I'll go seek the Priest, whom, if I can find, I will stick close to with
a Vengeance.
SCENE IX.
_Another Apartment._
Jourdain, Martin.
_Jourd._ Alas! Father, there is one Sin sticks by me more than any I
have confessed to you. It is so enormous a one my Shame hath prevented
me discovering it--I have often concealed my Crimes from my Confessor.
_Mart._ That is a damnable Sin indeed. It seemeth to argue a Distrust of
the Church, the greatest of all Crimes; a Sin I fear the Church cannot
forgive.
_Jourd._ Oh! say not so, Father!
_Mart._ I should have said will not, or not without difficulty: for the
Church can do all things.
_Jourd._ That is some Comfort again.
_Mart._ I hope, however, tho' you have not confessed them, you have not
forgotten them; for they must be confessed before they can be forgiven.
_Jourd._ I hope I shall recollect them, they are a black Roll--I
remember I once was the Occasion of ruining a Woman's Reputation by
shewing a Letter from her.
_Mart._ If you had shewn it to the Priest it had been no Fault.
_Jourd._ Alas! Sir, I wrote the Letter to my self, and thus traduced the
Innocent. I afterwards commanded a Company of Granadiers, at the taking
of a Town, where I knocked a poor old Gentleman in the Head for the sake
of his Money, and ravished his Daughter.
_Mart._ These are crying Sins indeed.
_Jourd._ At the same time I robbed a Jesuit of two Pistoles.
_Mart._ Oh! damnable! Oh! execrable!
_Jourd._ Good Father, have Patience: I once borrowed five hundred Livres
of an honest Citizen in Paris, and repay'd him by lying with his Wife:
And what sits nearest my Heart, was forced to pay a young Cavalier the
same Sum, by suffering him to lie with mine.
_Mart._ Oh!
_Jourd._ And yet what are these to what I have done since I commenced
Merchant. What have I not done to get a Penny. I insured a Ship for a
great Value, and then cast it away; I broke when I was worth a hundred
thousand Livres, and went over to _London_. I settled there, renounced
my Religion, and was made a Justice of Peace.
_Mart._ Oh! that Seat of Heresy and Damnation! that Whore of _Babylon_!
_Jourd._ With the Whores of _Babylon_ did I unite: I protected them from
Justice: Gaming-houses and Baudy-houses did I license, nay, and frequent
too; I never punished any Vice but Poverty: for Oh! I dread to name it:
I once committed a Priest to _Newgate_ for picking Pockets.
_Mart._ Oh! monstrous! horrible! dreadful! I'll hear no more. Thou art
damn'd without Reprieve.
_Jourd._ Take Pity, Father, take Pity on a Penitent.
_Mart._ Pity! the Church abhors it. 'Twere Mercy to such a Wretch to
pray him into Purgatory.
_Jourd._ I'll give all my Estate to the Church, I'll found Monasteries,
I'll build Abbies.
_Mart._ All will not do, ten thousand Masses will not deliver you.
_Jourd._ Was ever such a miserable Wretch!
_Mart._ Thou hast Sins enough to damn thy whole Family. Monstrous
Impiety! to lift up the Hand of Justice against the Church.
_Jourd._ Oh speak some Comfort to me: will no Penance expiate my Crime?
_Mart._ It is too grievous for a single Penance, go settle your Estate
on the Church, and send your Daughter to a Nunnery, her Prayers will
avail more than yours: Heaven hears the young and innocent with
Pleasure. I will, my self, say four Masses a-day for you; and all these,
I hope, will purchase your Forgiveness, at least your Stay in Purgatory
will be short.
_Jourd._ My Daughter! She is to be married to-morrow, and I shall never
prevail on her.
_Mart._ You must force her; your all depends on it.
_Jourd._ But I have already sworn I will not force her.
_Mart._ The Church absolves you from that Oath, and it were now Impiety
to keep it. Go, lose not a Moment, see her entered with the utmost
Expedition; she may put it out of your Power.
_Jourd._ What a poor miserable Wretch am I?
SCENE X.
Martin _solus_.
Thou art a miserable Wretch indeed! And it is on such miserable Wretches
depends our Power: that Superstition which tears thy Bowels, feeds
ours. This Nunnery is a Master-piece, let me but once shut up my dear
_Isabel_ from every other Man, and the Warmth of her Constitution may be
my very powerful Friend. How far am I got already from the very Brink of
Despair, by the Despair of this old Fool. Superstition, I adore thee,
Thou handle to the cheated Layman's Mind,
By which in Fetters Priestcraft leads Mankind.
ACT II. SCENE I.
Jourdain, Isabel.
JOURDAIN.
Have you no Compassion for your Father, for him that gave you being?
Could you bear to hear me howl in Purgatory?
_Isa._ Lud! Pappa! Do you think your putting me into Purgatory in this
World, will save you from Purgatory in the next? If you have any Sins
you must repent of them your self; for I give you my Word, I have enough
to do to repent of my own.
_Jourd._ You will soon wipe off that Score, and will be then in a Place
where you cannot contract a new one.
_Isa._ Indeed, Sir, to shut a Woman out from Sin is not so easy. But,
dear Sir, how can it enter into your Head, that my Penance can be
acceptable for your Sin? Take my Word, one Week's fasting will be of
more Service to you than this long Fast you would enjoin me.
_Jourd._ Alas! Child, if fasting would do, I am sure I have not been
wanting to my Duty: I have fasted till I am almost worn away to
nothing; I have almost fasted my self into Purgatory, while I was
fasting my self out of it.
_Isa._ But whence comes all this Apprehension of your Danger?
_Jourd._ Whence should it come, but from the Church.
_Isa._ Oh! Sir, I have thought of the most lucky thing. You know, my
Cousin _Beatrice_ is just going into a Nunnery, and she will pray for
you as much as you would have her.
_Jourd._ Trifle not with so serious a Concern. No Prayers but yours will
ever do me good.
_Isa._ Then you shall have them any where but in a Nunnery.
_Jourd._ They must be there too.
_Isa._ That will be impossible: for if I was there, instead of praying
you out of Purgatory, my Prayers would be all bent to pray my self out
of the Nunnery again.
SCENE II.
_Old_ Laroon, Jourdain, Isabel.
_Old. Lar._ A Dog, a Villain, put off my Son's Match. Mr. _Jourdain_,
your Servant; will you suffer a Rogue of a Jesuit to defer your
Daughter's Marriage a whole Week?
_Jourd._ I am sorry, Mr. _Laroon_, for the Disappointment, but her
Marriage will be deferred longer than that.
_Old. Lar._ How, Sir!
_Jourd._ She is intended for another Marriage, Sir, a much better Match.
_Old. Lar._ A much better Match!--
_Isa._ Yes, Sir, I am to be sent to a Nunnery, to pray my Father out of
Purgatory.
_Old Lar._ Oh! Ho!--We'll make that Matter very easy: he shall have no
Fear of Purgatory; for I'll send him to the Devil this Moment. Come,
Sir, draw, draw--
_Jourd._ Draw what, Sir!
_Old Lar._ Draw your Sword, Sir.
_Jourd._ Alas, Sir, I have long since done with Swords, I have broke my
Sword long since.
_Old Lar._ Then I shall break your Head, you old Rogue.
_Jourd._ Heyday----you are mad; what's the Matter?
_Old Lar._ Oh! no matter, no matter, you have used me ill, and you are a
Son of a Whore, that's all.
_Jourd._ I wou'd not, Mr. _Laroon_, have my Conscience accuse me of
using you ill: I would not have preferred any earthly Match to your Son,
but if Heaven requires her--
_Old Lar._ I shall run mad.
_Jourd._ I hope my Daughter has Grace enough to make an Atonement for
her Father's Sins.
_Old Lar._ And so, you wou'd atone for all your former Rogueries, by a
greater, by perverting the Design of Nature! Was this Girl intended for
praying! Hearkee, old Gentleman, let the young Couple together, and
they'll sacrifice their first Fruits to the Church.
_Jourd._ It is impossible.
_Old Lar._ Well, Sir, then I shall attempt to persuade you no longer;
so, Sir, I desire you would fetch your Sword.
SCENE III.
_Young_ Laroon _in a Friar's Habit_, _Old_ Laroon, Jourdain.
_Y. Lar._ Let Peace be in this House----Where is the Sinner _Jourdain_?
_Jourd._ Here is the miserable Wretch.
_Old Lar._ Death and the Devil, another Priest.
_Y. Lar._ Then know I am thy Friend, and am come to save thee from
Destruction.
_Old Lar._ That's likely enough.
_Y. Lar._ St. _Francis_ the Patron of our Order hath sent me on this
Journey, to caution thee, that thou may not suffer thy sinful Daughter
to profane the holy Veil. Such was it seems thy Purpose; but the
Perdition that would have attended it I dread to think on. Rejoice
therefore, and prostrate thy self at the Shrine of a Saint, who has not
only sent thee this Caution, but does himself intercede for all thy
Sins.
_Old Lar._ Agad! and St. _Francis_ is a very honest Fellow, and thou art
the first Priest that ever I lik'd in my whole Life.
_Jourd._ St. _Francis_ honours me too much. I shall try to deserve the
Favour of that Saint. But wherefore is my Daughter denied the holy Veil?
_Y. Lar._ Your Daughter, I am concerned to say it, is now with Child by
a young Gentleman, one Mr. _Laroon_.
_Jourd._ Oh Heavens!
_Old Lar._ What's that you say, Sir, because I thought I heard somewhat
of a damn'd Lye come out of your Mouth.
_Y. Lar._ Sir, it is St. _Francis_ speaks within me, and he cannot be
mistaken.
_Old Lar._ I can tell you, Sir, if that young Gentleman had heard you,
he would certainly have thrashed St. _Francis_ out of you.
_Y. Lar._ Sir, you have nothing to do now, but to prepare the Match with
the utmost Expedition.
_Old Lar._ This St. _Francis_ must lye, or the Boy would not be so eager
upon the Affair: No one is ever eager to sign Articles when they have
entered the Town.----Well, Master _Jourdain_, if the young Dog has
tripped up your Daughter's Heels in an unlawful way, as St. _Francis_
says, why, he shall make her amends and--and do it in a lawful one. So
I'll go see for my Son, while you go and comfort the poor Chicken that
is pining for fear of a Nunnery.----Odsheart, it would be very hard
indeed, when a Girl has once had her Belly full, that she must fast all
her Life afterwards.
_Y. Lar._ I have deliver'd my Commission and shall now return to my
Convent----Farewel, and return Thanks to St. _Francis_.
_Jourd._ Oh! St. _Francis_! St. _Francis_! What a merciful Saint art
thou!
SCENE IV. _Another Apartment._
Martin, Isabel.
_Mart._ Indeed, Child, there are Pleasures in a retired Life, which you
are entirely ignorant of. Nay, there are Indulgencies granted to People
in that State, which would be sinful out of it. And, perhaps, the same
Liberties are permitted them with one Person, which are deny'd them with
another. Come, put on a chearful Countenance, you don't know what you
are design'd for.
_Isa._ No, but I know what I am not design'd for.
_Mart._ Let me feel your Pulse.
_Isa._ You are a Physician as well as a Priest, I suppose.
_Mart._ Have you never any odd Dreams?
_Isa._ No.
_Mart._ Do you never find any strange Emotions?
_Isa._ No. None but what I believe are very natural.
_Mart._ Strange that!----Did you never see me in your Sleep?
_Isa._ I never dream of a Priest, I assure you.
_Mart._ Nay, nay; be candid, confess, perhaps, there may be nothing so
sinful in it. We cannot help what we are design'd for. We are only
passive, and the Sin lies not at our Doors. While you are only passive,
I'll answer for your Sins.
_Isa._ What do you mean?
_Mart._ That you must not yet know--Great things are design'd for you,
very great things are designed for you.
_Isa._ (Hum! I begin to guess what is design'd for me.) [_Aside._
_Mart._ Those Eyes have a Fire in them that scarce seems mortal. Come
hither----give me a Kiss----ha! there is a Sweetness in that Breath like
what I've read of _Ambrosia_. That Bosom heaves like those of
Priestesses of old, when big with Inspiration.
_Isa._ (Haity-tity----Are you thereabouts good Father?) [_Aside._
_Mart._ Let me embrace thee, my dear Daughter, let me give thee Joy of
such Promotion, such Happiness as will attend you.
_Isa._ I'll try this reverend Gentleman his own way. [_Aside._
_Mart._ You must resign your self up to my Will, you must be passive in
all things.
_Isa._ Oh! let me thus beg Pardon, on my Knees, for an Offence which
Modesty occasioned.
_Mart._ Ha! speak.
_Isa._ Oh! I see it is in vain to hide my Secrets from you. What need
have I to confess what you already know?
_Mart._ Confession was intended for the sake of the Penitent, not the
Confessor: for to the Church all things are revealed.
_Isa._ Oh! then I had a Dream----I dreamt----I dreamt----oh! I can never
tell you what I dreamt.
_Mart._ Horrible!
_Isa._ I dreamt--I dreamt--I dreamt----
_Mart._ Oh! the Strength of Sin!
_Isa._ I dreamt I was brought to bed of the Pope.
_Mart._ The very Happiness I meant, let me embrace you, let me kiss you,
my dear Daughter: Henceforth you may defy Purgatory--the Mother of a
Pope was never there.
_Isa._ But how can that be, when I am to be a Nun, Father?
_Mart._ Leave the Means to me. Learn only to be passive, the Church will
work the rest. A Pope is always the Son of a Nun. Go you to your
Chamber, wash your self, then pray devoutly, shut every Ray of Light
out, leave open the Door and expect the Consequence.
_Isa._ Father, I shall be obedient--oh! the Villain!
_Mart._ Be passive and be happy.
SCENE V.
Jourdain, Martin, Isabel.
_Mart._ Ha! Why this unseasonable Interruption, while your Daughter is
at Confession?
_Jourd._ Oh, Father, I have brought you News will make you happy, will
rejoice your poor Heart. My Daughter is redeemed.
_Mart._ Out of Purgatory----vain Man! dost thou think to inform the
Church?--
_Jourd._ I suppose St. _Francis_ has been beforehand with me. Indeed I
should have imagined that before: for we seldom hear any thing from the
Saints, but thro' the Mouth of a Priest.
_Mart._ (What does he mean?) [_Aside._
_Jourd._ Well, Daughter, the Thoughts of a Nunnery now give you no
Uneasiness.
_Mart._ No, no, she is perfectly reconciled to it, and I am confident,
would not quit the Nunnery for the Bed of a Prince.
_Jourd._ Ha! would not quit the Nunnery, Heaven forbid.
_Mart._ How! you are not mad!
_Jourd._ Unless with Joy. I thought you had known that I have received
an Order from St. _Francis_, to marry my Daughter immediately.
_Mart._ Oh! Folly! to marry her immediately; why ay, to marry her to the
Church, St. _Francis_ means. You see into what Errors the Laity run,
when they go without the Leading-strings of the Church, and would
interpret for themselves what they know nothing of.
_Isa._ I'll take this Opportunity to steal off, and communicate a Design
of mine to young _Laroon_, which may draw this Priest into a Snare he
little dreams of.
_Jourd._ But I cannot see how that should be St. Francis's Meaning: For
tho' my Daughter may be married to the Church in a figurative Sense,
sure, she cannot be with Child by the Church in a literal one.
_Mart._ I see the Business now, unhappy Man! I was in Hopes to have
prevented this----_Exorcizo te, Exorcizo te,_ Satan. _Ton Dapamibominos
prosephe podas ocus Achilleus_.
_Jourd._ Bless us, what mean you?
_Mart._ You are possessed; the Devil has taken possession of you; he is
now within you, I saw him just now look out of your Eyes.
_Jourd._ O miserable Wretch that I am!
SCENE VI.
_Old_ Laroon, _Young_ Laroon, Jourdain, Martin.
_Old Lar._ Mr. _Jourdain_, your Servant. Where is my Daughter-in-law:
I'll warrant she will easily forgive one Day's forwarding the Match.
Odso, it's an Error of the right side.
_Jourd._ Talk not to me of my Daughter, I am possessed, I am possessed.
_Old Lar._ Possessed--what the Devil are you possessed with.
_Jourd._ I am possessed with the Devil.
_Old Lar._ You are possessed with a Priest, and that's worse. Come,
let's have the Wedding, and at Night, we'll drive the Devil out of you
with a Fidle. The Devil is a great Lover of Musick. I have known half a
Dozen Devils dance out of a Man's Mouth at the tuning a Violin, then
present the Company with a Hornpipe, and so dance a Jig through the
Keyhole.
_Mart._ Thou art the Devil's Son; for he is the Father of Lyars.
_Old Lar._ Thou art the Devil's Footman, and wearest his proper Livery.
_Jourd._ Fy upon you, Mr. _Laroon_; Fy upon you.
_Mart._ Mr. _Laroon_! O surprizing Effect of Possession----Here is no
Body.
_Jourd._ Can I not believe my Eyes?
_Mart._ Can you not! no--you are to believe mine. The Eyes of the Laity
may err, the Eyes of a Priest cannot.
_Jourd._ And do I not see Mr. _Laroon_ and his Son!
_Mart._ You see neither. It is the Spirit within you that represents to
your Eyes and Ears what Objects it pleases.
_Jourd._ Oh! miserable Wretch.
_Old Lar._ Agad I'll try whether I am no Body or no, and whether I
cannot make this Priest sensible that I am somebody.
_Y. Lar._ For Heaven's sake, Sir, consider the Consequence.
_Old Lar._ Consequence! Do you think I'll suffer a Rascal to prove me
nothing at all to my Face?
_Jourd._ And is it possible all this is a Vision?
_Mart._ Retire to Rest----while I by the Force and Battery of Prayer,
expel this dreadful Guest.
_Jourd._ Oh! what a miserable Wretch am I!
SCENE VII.
_Old_ Laroon, _Young_ Laroon, Martin.
_Old Lar._ Hearkee, Sir, will you please to tell me what this great
Impudence of yours means? and what you would intend by Annihilating me.
_Mart._ It were happy for such Sinners that they cou'd be annihilated:
It were worth you two hundred thousand Masses, take my Word for it.
_Old Lar._ It were happy for such Rascals as you, Sirrah, that all
Honesty was annihilated.
_Y. Lar._ But pray, Father, what Reasons have you for preventing my
Match with _Isabel_?
_Mart._ Reasons, young Gentleman, that are not proper for your Ears.
_Isabel_ is intended for a better Bridegroom than you.
_Old Lar._ How, Sirrah! how! Do you disparage my Son? Do you run down my
Boy? Hearkee, either make up Affairs between them immediately, exert thy
self in thy proper office and hold the Door, or I'll blow up thy
Convent; I'll burn your Garrison, and disband such a Set of black
Locusts as shall rob and pillage all _Toulon_.
_Mart._ I contemn thy Threats. The Saints defend their Ministers.
_Old Lar._ The Saints defend their Ministers! the Laws defend them: St.
Wheel, and St. Prison, and St. Gibbet, and St. Faggot; these are the
Saints that defend you. If you had no Defence but from the Saints in the
other World, you wou'd few of you stay long in this. If you had no other
Arms than your Beads, you would have shortly no other Food.
_Mart._ Oh Slanderous! Oh impious! some Judgment cannot be far off.
_Old Lar._ When a Priest is so near--Sirrah!
SCENE VIII.
Isabel, _to them_.
_Mart._ Daughter, fly from this wicked Place; the Breath of Sin has
infected it, and two Gallons of Holy Water will scarce purify the Air.
_Isa._ Oh! Heavens! What's the Matter, Father?
_Old Lar._ Why the Matter is, this Gentleman in Black here, for Reasons
best known to himself, and another Gentleman in Black, has thought fit
to forbid your Marriage.
_Isa._ What the Saints please.
_Old Lar._ Hoity-toity! What, has he fill'd your Head with the Saints
too?
_Isa._ Oh Sir! I have had such Dreams.
_Old Lar._ Dreams! Ha, ha, ha: The Devil's in it, if a Girl just going
to be married should not have Dreams. But they were Dreams the Saints
had nothing to do with, I warrant you.
_Isa._ Such Visions of Saints appearing to me, and advising me to a
Nunnery.
_Old Lar._ Impossible! Impossible! for I have had Visions too: I have
been order'd by half a Dozen Saints to see you married with the utmost
Expedition; and a very honest Saint, whose Name I forget, came to me
about an Hour ago, and swore heartily if you were not married within
this Week, he'd lead you to Purgatory in a Fortnight.
_Mart._ Oh! grievous!
_Isa._ Can there be such Contradictions?
_Old Lar._ Pshaw! Pshaw! Yours was a Dream, and so to be understood
backwards; Mine, a true Vision, therefore to be believ'd. Why, Child, I
have been a famous Seer of Visions in my Time. Wou'd you believe it?
While I was in the Army, there never was a Battle, but I saw it some
time beforehand. I have had an intimate Familiarity with the Saints, I
know them all: There is not one of them cou'd be capable of saying such
a thing.
_Isa._ Oh! Sir, I saw, and heard, and must believe, for none but the
Church can contradict our Senses.
_Old. Lar._ So, so! the Distemper's hereditary, I find: the Daughter is
as full of the Church as the Father. Come away, Son, come away: I would
not have thee marry into such a Family, I shou'd be Grand-father to a
Race of greasy Priests. 'Sdeath! this Girl will be brought to bed of a
Pope one Day or other.
_Isa._ 'Tis out, 'tis out.
_Mart._ Oh prodigious! That such a Saint shou'd prophesy Truth through
those Lips, whence the Devil has been thundring so many Lyes.
_Old Lar._ What Truth, Sir, what Truth?
_Isa._ Oh! Sir, the Blessing you mentioned, has been promised me! I am
to give a Pope to the World.
_Old Lar._ Are you so, Madam? He shall have no Blood of mine in him, I'm
resolv'd I'll never ask Blessings of a Grandson. Come away, Jack, come a
way, I say; let us leave the Devil's Son, and the Pope's Mother
together.
_Yo. Lar._ Remember, my _Isabel_, I only live in the Hopes of seeing you
mine.
SCENE IX.
Martin, Isabel.
_Mart._ It were better thou shouldst howl in Purgatory ten thousand
Years, than ever see that Day. Oh! that we had but an Inquisition in
_France_. Burning four or five hundred such Fellows in a Morning would
be the best way of deterring others. Religion loves to warm it self at
the Fire of a Heretick.
_Isa._ Fire is as necessary to keep our Minds warm as our Bodies,
Father; and burning a Heretick is really a very great Service done to
himself; a Faggot is a Purge for a sick Soul, and a Heretick is obliged
to the Priest who applies it.
_Mart._ There spoke the Spirit of Zeal: Let me embrace thee, my little
Saint; for such thou will be, let me kiss thee with the pure Affection
of a Confessor----Ha! there is something Divine in these Lips, let me
taste them again; are you sure you have drank no Holy Water this
Morning?
_Isa._ None, upon my Word.
_Mart._ Let me smell a third time. There. _Numero Deus impare gaudet._
Depend on it, Child, very great Happiness will attend you. But be sure
to observe my Directions in every thing.
_Isa._ I shall, Father. I did as you commanded me this Morning.
_Mart._ Well, and did you perceive any great Alterations in your self?
Any extraordinary Emotion?
_Isa._ I cannot say I did.
_Mart._ Hum! Spirits have their own Times of Operation; which must be
diligently watch'd for. Perhaps your good Genius was at that Time
otherwise employ'd. Repeat the Ceremony often, and my Life on the
Success. Let me see, about an Hour hence will be a very good Season. Be
ready to receive him, and I firmly believe, the Spirit will come to you.
_Isa._ Oh lud! Father, I shall be frightned out of my Wits at the Sight
of a Spirit.
_Mart._ You will see nothing frightful, take my Word for it.
_Isa._ I hope he won't appear in any horrible Shape.
_Mart._ Hum--That is to be averted by _Ave Maries_. As this is a
friendly Spirit, I dare say, you may prevail on him to take what Shape
you please. Perhaps your Father, or if you cannot prevail for a Lay-man,
I dare swear, you may at least, pray him into the Shape of your
Confessor: and tho' I must suffer Pain on that Account, I am ready to
undergo it for your Service.
_Isa._ I am infinitely obliged to my dear Father, I'll prepare my self
for this vast Happiness, nothing shall be wanting on my Parr, I assure
you.
_Mart._ And if any thing be wanting on mine, may I never say Mass again,
or never be paid for Masses I have not said. Either this Girl has
extraordinary Simplicity, or what is more likely, extraordinary Cunning;
she does not seem averse to my Kisses. Why should I not imagine she sees
and approves my Design. Well, I'll say this for the Sex: Let a Man but
invent any Excuse for the Sin, and they are all ready to undertake it.
How happy is a Priest,
Who can the blushing Maid's Resistance smother,
With Sin in one Hand, Pardon in the other.
ACT III. SCENE I.
SCENE, Isabel'_s_ _Apartment_.
_Young_ Laroon, Isabel.
_Young_ LAROON.
Perdition seize the Villain, may all the Torments of twenty Inquisitions
wrack his Soul.
_Isa._ Act your Part well, and we shall not want his own Weapons against
him.
_Yo. Lar._ Sure it is impossible he can intend it--
_Isa._ Shall I make the Experiment?
_Yo. Lar._ I shall never be able to forbear murdering him.
_Isa._ You shall promise not to commit any Violence, you know too well
what wou'd be the Consequence of that. Let us sufficiently convict him,
and leave his Punishment to the Law.
_Yo. Lar._ And I know too well what will be the Consequence of that.
There seems to be a Combination between Priests and Lawyers; the Lawyers
are to save the Priests from Punishment for their Rogueries in this
World, and the Priests the Lawyers in the next.
_Isa._ However, the same Law that screens him for having injured you,
will punish you for having done Justice to him. [_Knocking at the Door._
_Isa._ Oh! Heavens! the Priest is at the Door. What shall we do?
_Yo. Lar._ Damn him: I'll stay here and confront him.
_Isa._ Oh! No, by no means: For once, I'll attack him in his own Way; so
the Moment he opens the Door, do you run out and leave the rest to me.
[_She throws her self into a Chair, and shrieks._ _Young_ Laroon
_overturns_ Martin.
SCENE II.
Martin, Isabel.
_Mart._ I am slain, I am overlaid, I am murdered. Oh! Daughter,
Daughter, is this your patient Expectation of the Spirit?
_Isa._ It has been here: It has been here.
_Mart._ What has been here?
_Isa._ Oh! the Spirit, the Spirit. It has been here this half Hour, and
just as you came in, it vanished away in a Clap of Thunder, and I
thought would have taken the Room with it.
_Mart._ I thought it would have taken me with it, I am sure. Spirit
indeed! There are abundance of such Spirits as these in _Toulon_. And
pray, how have the Spirit and you employed your time this half Hour?
_Isa._ Oh! don't ask me: It is impossible to tell you.
_Mart._ Ay, 'tis needless too: for I can give a shrewd Guess. I suppose
you like his Company.
_Isa._ Oh! so well! That I could wish he would visit me ten Times every
Day.
_Mart._ Oh, Ho! And in the same Shape too.
_Isa._ Oh! I shou'd like him in any Shape, and I dare swear he'll come
in any Shape too: For he is the purest, sweetest, most complaisant
Spirit: I could have almost sworn it had been Mr. _Laroon_ himself.
_Mart._ Was there ever such a----
_Isa._ Nay, when it came in first, it behaved just like Mr. _Laroon_,
and call'd it self by his Name; but when it found I did not answer a
Word, it took me by the Hand, and cry'd, is it possible you can be angry
with your _Laroon_! I answer'd not a Word; then it kissed me a hundred
times; I said nothing still; it caught me in its Arms, and embrac'd me
Passionately; I still behaved as you commanded me, very passive.
_Mart._ Oh! the Devil, the Devil! Was ever Man so caught. And did you
never apprehend it to be Mr. _Laroon_ himself?
_Isa._ Heaven forbid, I should have suffered Mr. _Laroon_ in those
Familiarities, which you order'd me to allow the Spirit.
_Mart._ I am caught indeed. Damn'd driveling Idiot! [_Aside._
_Isa._ But, dear Father, tell me, shall I not see it again quickly? For
I long to see it again.
_Mart._ Oh! Yes, yes----
_Isa._ I long to see it in the dark (methinks) for you know, Father, one
sees Spirits best in the dark.
_Mart._ Ay, ay, you'll see it in the dark, I warrant you; but be sure
and behave as you did before.
_Isa._ And will he always behave as he did before, Father?
_Mart._ Hum! Be in your Chamber this Evening at Eight; take care there
be no Light in the Room, and perhaps the Spirit may pay you a second
Visit.
_Isa._ I'll be sure to be punctual.
_Mart._ And passive.
_Isa._ I'll obey you in every thing.
_Mart._ Senseless Oaf. But tho' I have lost the first Fruits by her
extreme Folly, yet am I highly delighted with it; and if I do not make a
notable use of it I am no Priest.