University of Virginia Library

SCENE, A Chamber.
A Table and Wine set out.
Enter Lorenzo.
Lor.

This may hit, 'tis more then barely possible: for Fryars
have free admittance into every house. This Jacobin, whom I
have sent to, is her Confessor; and who can suspect a man of
such Reverence for a Pimp? I'll try for once: I'll bribe him high:
for commonly none love Money better then they who have made
a Vow of Poverty.

Enter Servant.
Serv.

There's a huge fat religious Gentleman coming up, Sir,
he saies he's but a Fryar, but he's big enough to be a Pope; his
Gills are as rosie as a Turkey Cock; his great Belly walks in state
before him like an Harbinger; and his gouty Legs come limping
after it: Never was such a Tun of Devotion seen.

Lor.

Bring him in, and vanish.

[Exit Servant.
Enter Father Dominic.
Lor.

Welcome, Father.

Dom.

Peace be here: I thought I had been sent for to a dying
man; to have fitted him for another world.

Lor.

No, Faith, Father, I was never for taking such long journeys.
Repose your self, I beseech you, Sir, if those spindle Legs of
yours will carry you to the next Chair.

Dom.

I am old, I am infirm, I must confess, with Fasting.

Lor.

'Tis a sign by your wan Complexion, and your thin Jouls,
Father. Come—to our better Acquaintance:—here's a
Sovereign Remedy for Old Age and Sorrow.

[Drinks.
Dom.

The Looks of it are indeed alluring: I'll doe you reason.

Lor.

Is it to your Palate, Father?

[Drinks.
Dom.

Second thoughts, they say, are best: I'll consider of it once
again.

[Drinks.
It has a most delicious Flavour with it.

Gad forgive me, I have forgotten to drink your health, Son, I am
not us'd to be so unmannerly.

[Drinks again.
Lor.

No, I'll be sworn by what I see of you, you are not:—
To the bottom.—I warrant him a true Church-man.—Now, Father,
to our business, 'tis agreeable to your Calling; I intend to
doe an act of Charity.

Dom.

And I love to hear of Charity; 'tis a comfortable subject.

Lor.

Being in the late Battle, in great hazard of my Life, I recommended
my person to good St. Dominic.

Dom.

You cou'd not have pitch'd upon a better: he's a sure
Card: I never knew him fail his Votaries.

Lor.

Troth I e'en made bold to strike up a bargain with him,
that if I scap'd with Life and Plunder, I wou'd present some Brother
of his Order with part of the Booty taken from the Infidels,
to be employ'd in charitable uses.

Dom.

There you hit him: St. Dominic loves Charity exceedingly:
that Argument never fails with him.

Lor.

The Spoils were mighty; and I scorn to wrong him of
a Farthing. To make short my Story; I enquir'd among the Jacobins
for an Almoner, and the general Fame has pointed out
your Reverence as the Worthiest man:—here are Fifty good
Pieces in this Purse.

Dom.

How, Fifty Pieces? 'tis too much, too much in Conscience.

Lor.

Here; take 'em Father.

Dom.

No, in troth, I dare not: do not tempt me to break my
Vow of Poverty.

Lor.

If you are modest, I must force you: for I am strongest.

Dom.

Nay, if you compel me, there's no contending; but will
you set your strength against a decrepit, poor, old man?

[Takes the Purse.

As I said, 'tis too great a Bounty; but St. Dominic shall owe you
another Scape: I'll put him in mind of you.

Lor.

If you please, Father, we will not trouble him till the next
Battle. But you may doe me a greater kindness, by conveying
my Prayers to a Female Saint.

Dom.

A Female Saint! good now, good now, how your Devotions
jump with mine! I alwaies lov'd the Female Saints.

Lor.

I mean a Female, mortal, married-woman-Saint: Look upon
the Superscription of this Note; you know Don Gomez his
Wife.

[Gives him a Letter.
Dom.

Who, Donna Elvira? I think I have some reason: I am
her Ghostly Father.

Lor.

I have some business of Importance with her, which I
have communicated in this Paper; but her Husband is so horribly
given to be jealous.—

Dom.

Ho, jealous? he's the very Quintessence of Jealousie: he
keeps no Male Creature in his house: and from abroad he lets no
man come near her.

Lor.

Excepting you, Father.

Dom.

Me, I grant you: I am her Director and her Guide in
spiritual Affairs. But he has his humours with me too: for t'other
day, he call'd me False Apostle.

Lor.

Did he so? that reflects upon you all: on my word, Father,
that touches your Copy-hold. If you wou'd do a meritorious
Action, you might revenge the Churche's Quarrrel.—My
Letter, Father—

Dom.

Well, so far as a Letter, I will take upon me: for what
can I refuse to a man so charitably given?

Lor.

If you bring an Answer back, that Purse in your hand has
a twin-brother, as like him as ever he can look: there are Fifty
Pieces lye dormant in it, for more Charities.

Dom.

That must not be: not a Farthing more upon my Priesthood.
—But what may be the purport and meaning of this
Letter; that I confess a little troubles me.

Lor.

No harm, I warrant you.

Dom.

Well, you are a charitable man; and I'll take your word:
my comfort is, I know not the Contents; and so far I am blameless.
But an Answer you shall have: though not for the sake of
your Fifty Pieces more: I have sworn not to take them: they
shall not be altogether Fifty:—your Mistress,—forgive me
that I should call her your Mistress, I meant Elvira, lives but at
next door; I'll visit her immediately: but not a word more of the
Nine and forty Pieces.—

Lor.

Nay, I'll wait on you down Stairs.—Fifty Pounds for
the postage of a Letter! to send by the Church is certainly the
dearest road in Christendom.

[Exeunt.