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?