 | The Spanish Fryar or, The Double Discovery |  |
ACT II.
SCENE, The Queen's Anti-chamber.Alphonso, Pedro.
Alph.
When saw you my Lorenzo?
Ped.
I had a glimpse of him; but he shot by me
Like a young Hound upon a burning scent:
He's gon a Harlot-hunting.
Alph.
His foreign breeding might have taught him better.
Ped.
'Tis that has taught him this.
What learn our Youth abroad; but to refine
The homely Vices of their native Land?
Give me an honest homespun countrey Clown
Of our own growth; his dulness is but plain;
But their's embroider'd: they are sent out Fools,
And come back Fopps.
Alph.
You know what reasons urg'd me;
But now I have accomplish'd my Designs,
I shou'd be glad he knew 'em:—his wild Riots
Disturb my Soul; but they wou'd sit more close,
Did not the threatn'd down-fall of our house,
In Torrismond, o'erwhelm my private Ills.
Enter Bertran attended; and whispering with a Courtier, aside.
Bertr.
I wou'd not have her think he dar'd to love her;
If he presume to own it, she's so proud
He tempts his certain ruin.
Alph.
to Ped.
Mark how disdainfully he throws his Eyes on us.
Our old imprison'd King wore no such Looks.
Ped.
O, wou'd the General shake off his Dotage to th'usurping Queen,
I'll undertake, shou'd Bertran sound his Trumpets,
And Torrismond but whistle through his Fingers,
He draws his Army off.
Alph.
I told him so:
But had an Answer louder then a Storm.
Ped.
Now Plague and Pox on his Smock-loyalty!
I hate to see a brave bold Fellow sotted,
Made sour and sensless; turn'd to Whey by Love:
A driveling Hero; fit for a Romance.
O, here he comes; what will their greeting be!
Enter Torrismond attended. Bertran and he meet and justle.
Bertr.
Make way, My Lords, and let the Pageant pass.
Torr.
I make my way where e'er I see my Foe:
But you, My Lord, are good at a Retreat:
I have no Moores behind me.
Bertr.
Death and Hell!
Dare to speak thus when you come out again?
Torr.
Dare to provoke me thus, insulting man?
[Enter Teresa
Ter.
My Lords, You are too loud so near the Queen:
You, Torrismond, have much offended her:
'Tis her Command you instantly appear,
To answer your demeanour to the Prince.
Exit Teresa; Bertran with his company follow her.
Torr.
O Pedro, O Alphonso, pity me!
A Grove of Pikes
Whose polish'd Steel from far severely shines,
Are not so dreadfull as this beauteous Queen.
Alph.
Call up your Courage timely to your aid:
And, like a Lion press'd upon the Toyles,
Leap on your Hunters: Speak your Actions boldly;
There is a time when modest Vertue is
Allow'd to praise it self.
Ped.
Heart, you were hot enough; too hot, but now;
Your Fury then boil'd upward to a Fome:
But since this Message came, you sink and settle;
As if cold water had been pour'd upon you.
Alas, thou know'st not what it is to love!
When we behold an Angel, not to fear,
Is to be impudent:—no I'm resolv'd,
Like a led Victim, to my Death I'll goe;
And, dying, bless the hand that gave the blow.
[Exeunt.
The SCENE draws; and shews the Queen sitting in state, Bertran standing next her: then Teresa, &c.
She rises, and comes to the Front.
Qu. Leonora
to Bert.
I blame not you, My Lord, my Father's will,
Your own Deserts, and all my People's Voice,
Have plac'd you in the view of Sovereign Pow'r.
But I wou'd learn the cause, why Torrismond,
Within my Palace Walls, within my Hearing,
Almost within my Sight, affronts a Prince
Who shortly shall command him.
Bertr.
He thinks you owe him more then you can pay;
And looks, as he were Lord of humane kind.
Enter Torrismond, Alphonso, Pedro. Torrismond bows low: then looks earnestly on the Queen, and keeps at distance.
Teresa.
Madam, The General.—
Qu.
Let me view him well.
My Father sent him early to the Frontiers;
I have not often seen him; if I did,
He pass'd unmark'd by my unheeding Eyes.
But where's the Fierceness, the Disdainful Pride;
The Haughty Port, the Fiery Arrogance?
By all these Marks, this is not sure the man.
Bertr.
Yet this is he who fill'd your Court with Tumult,
Whose Fierce Demeanour, and whose Insolence
The Patience of a God cou'd not support.
Qu.
Name his Offence, My Lord, and he shall have
Immediate punishment.
Bertr.
'Tis of so high a nature, shou'd I speak it,
That my Presumption then wou'd equal his.
Qu.
Some one among you speak.
Ped.
(Aside.)
Now my Tongue itches.
All dumb! on your Allegiance, Torrismond,
By all your hopes, I do command you, speak.
Torr.
(kneeling.)
O seek not to convince me of a Crime
Which I can ne'er repent, nor can you pardon.
Or, if you needs will know it, think, oh think,
That he, who thus commanded dares to speak,
Unless commanded, wou'd have dy'd in silence.
But you adjur'd me, Madam, by my hopes!
Hopes I have none; for I am all Despair:
Friends I have none; for Friendship follows Favour
Desert I've none; for what I did, was Duty:
Oh, that it were! that it were Duty all!
Qu.
Why do you pause? proceed.
Torr.
As one condemn'd to leap a Precipice,
Who sees before his Eyes the Depth below,
Stops short, and looks about, for some kind Shrub
To break his dreadful Fall—so I;—
But whither am I going? if to Death,
He looks so lovely sweet in Beauties Pomp,
He draws me to his Dart.—I dare no more.
Bertr.
He's mad beyond the Cure of Hellebore.
Whips, Darkness, Dungeons, for this Insolence.—
Torr.
Mad as I am, yet I know when to bear.—
Qu.
You're both too bold. You, Torrismond, withdraw:
I'll teach you all what's owing to your Queen.
For you, My Lord,—
The Priest to morrow was to join our hands;
I'll try if I can live a day without you.
So, both of you depart; and live in Peace.
Alph.
Who knows which way she points!
Doubling and turning, like an hunted Hare.
Find out the Meaning of her mind who can.
Pedr.
Who ever found a Woman's! backward and forward,
The whole Sex in every word. In my Conscience when she was
getting, her Mother was thinking of a Riddle.
[Exeunt all, but the Queen and Teresa.
Queen,
Hast, my Teresa, hast; and call him back.
Teresa,
Whom, Madam?
(Queen,)
Him.
(Ter.)
Prince Bertran?
(Qu.)
Torrismond.
There is no other He.
(Aside.)
A rising Sun;
Or I am much deceiv'd.
[Exit Teresa.
Queen,
A change so swift, what heart did ever feel!
It rush'd upon me, like a mighty Stream,
And bore me in a moment far from Shore.
I've lov'd away my self: in one short hour
Already am I gon an Age of Passion.
Was it his Youth, his Valour, or Success?
These might perhaps be found in other men.
'Twas that respect; that awfull homage pay'd me;
That fearfull Love which trembled in his Eyes;
And, with a silent Earthquake, shook his Soul.
But, when he spoke, what tender words he said!
So softly, that, like flakes of feather'd Snow,
They melted as they fell.—
Enter Teresa, with Torrismond.
Ter.
He waits your pleasure.
Qu.
'Tis well; retire—Oh Heaven's, that I must speak
So distant from my heart—
(aside.)
To Torr.
How now! What Boldness brings you back again?
Torr.
I heard 'twas your Command.
Qu.
A fond mistake,
To credit so unlikely a Command.
And you return full of the same Presumption
T'affront me with your Love?
Torr.
If 'tis Presumption for a Wretch condemn'd
To throw himself beneath his Judge's feet:
A Boldness, more then this, I never knew:
Or, if I did, 'twas onely to your Foes.
Qu.
You wou'd insinuate your past Services;
And those, I grant, were great: but you confess
A Fault committed since, that cancels all.
Torr.
And who cou'd dare to disavow his Crime,
When that, for which he is accus'd and seiz'd,
He bears about him still! my Eyes confess it.
My every action speaks my heart aloud.
But, oh, the Madness of my high attempt
Speaks louder yet! and all together cry,
I love and I despair.
Have you not heard,
My Father, with his dying voice, bequeath'd
My Crown and me to Bertran? And dare you,
A private man, presume to love a Queen?
Torr.
That, that's the Wound! I see you set so high,
As no Desert, or Services, can reach.
Good Heav'ns, why gave you me a Monarch's Soul,
And crusted it with base Plebeian Clay!
Why gave you me Desires of such extent,
And such a Span to grasp 'em? Sure my lot
By some o'er-hasty Angel was misplac'd
In Fate's Eternal Volume!—But I rave,
And, like a giddy Bird, in dead of night,
Fly round the Fire that scorches me to death.
Qu.
Yet, Torrismond, you've not so ill deserv'd,
But I may give you Counsel for your Cure.
Torr.
I cannot, nay, I wish not to be cur'd.
Qu.
(aside.)
Nor I, Heav'n knows!
Torr.
There is a Pleasure sure
In being Mad, which none but Madmen know!
Let me indulge it: let me gaze for ever!
And, since you are too great to be belov'd,
Be greater, greater yet; and be ador'd.
Qu.
These are the words which I must onely hear
From Bertran's mouth; they shou'd displease from you;
I say they shou'd: but women are so vain,
To like the Love, though they despise the Lover
Yet, that I may not send you from my sight
In absolute despair—I pity you.
Torr.
Am I then pity'd! I have liv'd enough!
Death, take me in this moment of my Joy;
But when my Soul is plung'd in long oblivion,
Spare this one Thought: let me remember Pity;
And so deceiv'd, think all my life was bless'd.
Qu.
What if I add a little to my Alms?
If that wou'd help, I cou'd cast in a Tear
To your Misfortunes.—
Torr.
A Tear! You have o'erbid all my past Sufferings,
And all my future too!
Qu.
Were I no Queen—
Torr.
What have I lost by my Fore-father's fault?
Why was not I the Twenty'th by descent
From a long restive race of droning Kings?
Love! What a poor omnipotence hast thou
When Gold and Titles buy thee?
Qu.
(sighs.)
Oh, my torture!—
Torr.
Might I presume, but, oh, I dare not hope
That Sigh was added to your Alms for me!
Qu.
I give you leave to guess; and not forbid you
To make the best construction for your love.
Be secret and discreet; these Fayery favours
Are lost when not conceal'd;—provoke not Bertran.—
Retire: I must no more but this,—Hope, Torrismond.
[Exit Queen.
Torr.
She bids me hope; oh Heav'ns; she pities me!
And pity still soreruns approching love;
As Lightning does the Thunder! Tune your Harps
Ye Angels to that sound; and thou, my Heart,
Make room to entertain thy flowing Joy.
Hence all my Griefs, and every anxious Care:
One word, and one kind Glance, can cure despair.
[Exit Torrismond.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
SCENE, A Chamber.
Gomez, Elvira.
Gom.
Henceforth I banish Flesh and Wine: I'll have none stirring
within these walls these twelve months.
Elvira.
I care not; the sooner I am starv'd the sooner I am rid
of Wedlock. I shall learn the knack to fast a days; you have us'd
me to fasting nights already.
Gom.
How the Gipsey answers me! Oh, 'tis a most notorious
Hilding!
Elvira
, (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!
Elvi.
Was it such a Crime to enquire how the Battle pass'd?
Gom.
But that was not the business, Gentlewoman; you were
not asking News of a Battle past; you were engaging for a Skirmish
that was to come.
Elvi.
An honest Woman wou'd 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 your self to be his Chirurgeon:
—then, you did not describe your Husband to him, for
a covetous, jealous, rich old Huncks.
Elvi.
No, I need not: he describes himself sufficiently: but,
in what Dream did I doe this?
You walk'd in your Sleep, with your Eyes broad open,
at noon of day; and dreamt you were talking to the foresaid purpose
with one Colonel Hernando.—
Elvi.
Who, Dear Husband, who?
Gom.
What the Devil have I said? You wou'd have farther Information,
wou'd you?
Elvi.
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 your self: be confin'd, I say, during our Royal Pleasure:
But, first, down on your marrow-bones, upon your Allegeance;
and make an Acknowledgment of your Offences; for I will have
ample Satisfaction.
[Pulls her down.
Elvi.
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 Garbidge; he must chucle you and moan
you: but I'll rid my hands of his Ghostly Authority
one day,
[Enter Dominic.]
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 enjoyn you to Fast for Penance.
Gom.
(Aside.)
There's no harm in that; she shall fast too: Fasting
saves Money.
Dom.
to Elvira,
What was the reason that I found you upon
your Knees, in that unseemly posture?
Gom.
(Aside.)
O horrible! to find a woman upon her Knees,
he says, is an unseemly posture; there's a Priest for you.
Elvi.
to Dom.
I wish, Father, you wou'd give me an opportunity
of entertaining you in private: I have somewhat upon my
Spirits that presses me exceedingly.
Dom.
(Aside.)
This goes well: Gomez, stand you at distance,
—farther yet,—stand out of ear-shot—I have somewhat
to say to your Wife in private.
Gomez
, (Aside.)
Was ever man thus Priest-ridden? wou'd
for it.
Elvi.
I am asham'd to acknowledg my Infirmities; but you
have been alwaies an indulgent Father; and therefore I will venture,
to—and yet I dare not.—
Dom.
Nay, if you are bashfull;—if you keep your wound
from the knowledge of your Surgeon;—
Elvi.
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 then his Age: he's grown so froward, so covetous,
and so jealous, that he has turn'd my heart quite from him;
and, if I durst confess it, has forc'd me to cast my Affections on
another man.
Dom.
Good:—hold, hold; I meant abominable:—
pray Heaven this be my Colonel.
[Aside.
Elvi.
I have seen this man, Father; and have incourag'd his
Addresses: he's a young Gentleman, a Souldier, 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.
(aside.)
'Tis he for certain:—she has sav'd the Credit of
my Function, by speaking first; now must I take Gravity upon
me.
Gom.
(aside.)
This Whispering bodes me no good for certain;
but he has me so plaguily under the lash, that I dare not interrupt
him.
Dom.
Daughter, Daughter, do you remember your matrimonial
Vow?
Elvi.
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
wou'd 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?
Elvi.
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 alwaies: but, notwithstanding,
when we have done our utmost, it extenuates the Sin.
I can hold no longer.—Now, Gentlewoman, you
are confessing your Enormities; I know it by that hypocritical,
down cast Look: enjoin her to sit bare upon a Bed of Nettles,
Father; you can doe 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 dispos'd
and a vertuous Lady; I say it, In verbo Sacerdotis.
Elvi.
I know not what to doe, Father; I find my self 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 lawfull 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.
Elvi.
Ay, and my Colonel too, Father: I am overjoy'd; 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 press'd a Letter upon
me, within this hour, to deliver to you: I confess, I receiv'd it,
lest he should send it by some other; but with full resolution never
to put it into your hands.
Elvi.
Oh, dear Father, let me have it, or I shall dye.
Gom.
(Whispering still.)
A Pox of your close Committee! I'll
listen I'm resolv'd:
(steales nearer.)
Dom.
Nay, If you are obstinately bent to see it,—use your discretion;
but for my part, I wash my hands on't.—what make you
listning there? get farther off; I preach not to thee, thou wicked
Eves dropper.
Elvi.
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;
& liberavi animam meam.—Your Reputation is in
danger, to say nothing of your Soul. Notwithstanding, when
the Spiritual means have been apply'd, and fails: in that case, the
Carnal may be us'd.—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.
Hold, hold, Father; you goe beyond your Commission:
Palming is alwaies held foul play amongst Gamesters.
Dom.
Thus, good Intentions are misconstrued by wicked men:
you will never be warn'd till you are excommunicate.
Gom.
(Aside.)
Ah, Devil on him; there's his hold! If there
were no more in Excommunication then the Churche's Censure,
a Wise man wou'd lick his Conscience whole with a wet finger:
but, if I am excommunicate, I am outlaw'd; and then there's no
calling in my Money.
Elvira
, (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 dye, 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. Farwell, Daughter.
—Gomez, cherish your vertuous 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.—Fryars wear not their
long Sleeves for nothing.—Oh, 'tis a Judas Iscariot.
[Exit, after the Fryar.
Elvi.
This Fryar is a comfortable man! He will understand
nothing of the Business; and yet does it all.
For a True Guide, of my Good Father's breed.
[Exit Elvira.
| The Spanish Fryar or, The Double Discovery | |