SCENE III.--_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 o' 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 with you!

_Elv._ 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 passed; 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 chirurgeon;--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 dreamt you were talking to the foresaid 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 marrowbones, upon your allegiance, and make an acknowledgement of your offences; for I will have ample satisfaction. [_Pulls her down._

_Elv._ I have done you no injury, and therefore I'll make you no submission: but I'll complain to my ghostly father.

_Gom._ Ay, there's your remedy; when you receive condign punishment, you run with open mouth to your confessor; that parcel of holy guts and garbadge: he must chuckle you and moan you; but I'll rid my hands of his ghostly authority one day, [_Enter_ DOMINICK.] and make him know he's the son of a--[_Sees him._] So;--no sooner conjure, but the devil's in the circle.

_Dom._ Son of a 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._ There's no harm in that; she shall fast too: fasting saves money. [_Aside._

_Dom._ [_To_ ELVIRA.] What was the reason that I found you upon your knees, in that unseemly posture?

_Gom._ O horrible! to find a woman upon her knees, he says, is an unseemly posture; there's a priest for you! [_Aside._

_Elv._ [_To_ DOM.] 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._ This goes well: [_Aside._] Gomez, stand you at a distance,--farther yet,--stand out of ear shot;--I have somewhat to say to your wife in private.

_Gom._ Was ever man thus priest-ridden? would the steeple of his church were in his belly: I am sure there's room for it. [_Aside._

_Elv._ 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 keep your 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 may be my colonel! [_Aside._

_Elv._ 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._ 'Tis he, for certain;--she has saved the credit of my function, by speaking first; now must I take gravity upon me. [_Aside._

_Gom._ This whispering bodes me no good, for certain; but he has me so plaguily under the lash, that I dare not interrupt him. [_Aside._

_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 'tis good to keep it: but, notwithstanding, it may be broken upon some occasions. Have you striven with all your might against this frailty?

_Elv._ 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 greater 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 downcast 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 colonel, 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 received 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 of it.--What makes you listening there? get farther off; I preach not to thee, thou wicked eaves 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._ 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 is no calling in my money. [_Aside._

_Elv._ [_Rising._] I have read the note, father, and will send him an answer immediately; for I know his lodgings 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; I'll 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, 'tis a Judas Iscariot. [_Exit after the Friar._

_Elv._ 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._