Martin, _to them_.
_Mart._ Peace be with my Son. Ha! a Friar here! I like not this, I will
have no Partners in my Plunder. Save you, reverend Father.
_Old Lar._ _Tu quoque._
_Mart._ This Fellow should be a Jesuit by his Taciturnity. You see,
Father, the miserable State of our poor Son.
_Old Lar._ I have advis'd him thereon.
_Mart._ Your Advice is kind, tho' needless. He hath not wanted Prayer,
Fasting, nor Castigation, which are proper Physick for him.
_Old Lar._ Or suppose, Father, he was to go to a Ball. What think you of
a Ball?
_Mart._ A Ball?
_Old Lar._ Ay, or a Wench now; suppose, we were to procure him a Wench.
_Mart._ Oh! monstrous! Oh! impious!----
_Old Lar._ I only give my Opinion.
_Mart._ Thy Opinion is damnable. And thou art some Wolf in Sheep's
clothing. Thou art a Scandal to thy Order.
_Old Lar._ I wish thou art not more a Scandal to thine, Brother Father,
to abuse a poor old Fellow in a Fit of the Spleen here as thou dost,
with a Set of ridiculous Notions of Purgatory and the Devil knows what,
when both you and I know there is no such thing.
_Mart._ That I should not know thee before. Don't you know this reverend
Father, Son? Your worthy Neighbour _Laroon_.
_Old Lar._ Then farewel, Hypocrisy. I wou'd not wear thy Cloke another
Hour for any Consideration.
_Jourd._ What do I see?
_Old Lar._ Why you see a very honest Neighbour of yours, that has try'd
to deliver you out of the Claws of a roguish Priest, whom you may see
too; look in the Glass and you may see an old doating Fool, who is
afraid of his own Shadow.
_Mart._ Be not concerned at this, Son. Perhaps, one Hour's suffering
from this Fellow, may strike off several Years of Purgatory; I have
known such Instances.
_Jourd._ Oh! Father! Didst thou know what I have been guilty of
believing against thee, from the Mouth of this wicked Man?
_Old Lar._ Death and the Devil, I'll stay no longer here; for if I do, I
shall cut this Priest's Throat, tho' the Rack was before my Face.