Chapter 30

_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.