blunderbusses planted in every loop-hole, that go off constantly of their own accord, at the squeaking of a fiddle, and the thrumming of a guitar.

Lor. Art thou so obstinate? Then I denounce open war against thee: I'll demolish thy citadel by force; or, at least, I'll bring my whole regiment upon thee; my thousand red locusts, that shall devour thee in free quarter.Farewell, Wrought Night-Cap.

[Exit. Gom. Farewell, Buff! Free quarter for a regiment of red-coat locusts! I hope to see them all in the Red Sea first. But oh, this Jezebel of mine! I'll get a physician that shall prescribe her

an ounce of camphire every morning for her breakfast, to abate incontinency. She shall never peep abroad, no, not to church for confession; and for never going, she shall be condemned for a heretic. She shall have stripes by troy weight, and sustenance by drachms and scruples; nay, I'll have a fasting almanack printed on purpose for her use, in which

No carnival nor Christmas shall appear, But Lents and Ember-weeks shall fill the year. [Exit.

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 country clown Of our own growth; his dulness is but plain, But theirs embroidered; they are sent out fools, And come back fops.

Alph. You know what reasons urged me; But now I have accomplished my designs, I should be glad he knew them. His wild riots Disturb my soul; but they would sit more close, Did not the threatened downfal of our house, In Torrismond, o'erwhelm my private ills. Enter BERTRAN, attended, and whispering with a Courtier aside.

Bert. I would not have her think he dared to love her;

If he presumes 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 imprisoned king wore no such looks. Ped. O, would the general shake off his dotage to the usurping queen,

And re-enthrone good venerable Sancho!
I'll undertake, should 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 than a storm.

Ped. Now plague and pox on his smock-loyalty! I hate to see a brave bold fellow sotted, Made sour and senseless, turned to whey, by love; A drivelling hero, fit for a romance.

O, here he comes; what will their greeting be?

Enter TORRISMOND, attended. BERTRAN and he meet, and jostle.

Bert. Make way, my lords, and let the pageant

pass.

Tor. I make my way where'er I see my foe, But you, my lord, are good at a retreat. I have no Moors behind me.

Bert. Death and hell!

Dare to speak thus when you come out again. Tor. 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
following her.

Tor. O, Pedro! O, Alphonso! pity me! A grove of pikes,

Whose polished steel from far severely shines, Are not so dreadful as this beauteous queen.

Alph. Call up your courage timely to your aid, And, like a lion pressed upon the toils, Leap on your hunters. Speak your actions boldly. There is a time when modest virtue is Allowed to praise itself.

Ped. Heart, you were hot enough, too hot, but

now;

Your fury then boiled upward to a foam;
But since this message came, you sink and settle,
As if cold water had been poured upon you.

Tor. Alas, thou knowest not what it is to love!
When we behold an angel, not to fear,
Is to be impudent. No, I'm resolved,
Like a led victim, to my death I'll go,
And, dying, bless the hand that gave the blow.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II-Draws, and shews the Queen sitting in state; BERTRAN standing next her; then TERESA, &c. She rises, and comes to the front. Qu. [To BERT.] I blame not you, my lord: my father's will,

As no desert or services can reach.
Good Heavens, 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 them? Sure my lot
By some o'er-hasty angel was misplaced
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 deser-
ved,

But I may give you counsel for your cure.

Tor. I cannot, nay, I wish not to be cured. Qu. [Aside.] Nor I, Heaven knows! Tor. 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 beloved, Be greater, greater yet, and be adored.

Qu. These are the words which I must only

hear

From Bertran's mouth; they should displease from you;

I say they should; 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.

Tor. Am I then pitied? I have lived enough!
Death take me in this moment of my joy:
But when my soul is plunged in long oblivion,
Spare this one thought-let me remember pity,
And so deceived, think all my life was blessed.
Qu. What if I add a little to my alms?
If that would help, I could cast in a tear
To your misfortunes.

Tor. A tear! You have o'erbid all my past sufferings,

And all my future too.

Qu. Were I no queen, Or you of royal blood

Tor. What have I lost by my forefathers' fault ! Why was not I the twentieth 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!

Tor. Might I presuine, 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 fairy favours
Are lost when not concealed.-Provoke not Ber-

One word and one kind glance can cure despair. [Erit.

SCENE III-A Chamber. A table and wine set out.

Enter LORENZO.

Lor. This may hit; 'tis more than barely possible; for friars 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 than they who have made a vow of poverty. Enter Servant.

Sero. There's a huge, fat, religious gentleman coming up, sir: he says he's but a friar, but he's big enough to be a pope: his gills are as rosy as a turkey-cock's: 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.

[Exit Serv.

Lor. Bring him in, and vanish. Enter Father DOMINICK. 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 yourself, 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 jowls, 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 do you reason. [Drinks.

Lor. Is it to your palate, father?

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 used 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 do 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 Dominick.

Dom. You could not have pitched 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 à escaped with life and plunder, I would present some brother of his

Lor. The spoils were mighty; and I scorn to wrong him of a farthing. To make short my story-I inquired among the jacobins for an almoner, and the general has pointed out your reverence as the worthiest man. Here are fifty pieces in this purse.

Dom. How! Fifty pieces? 'Tis too much, too much in conscience.

Lor. Here, take them, 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 decrepid, poor old man? [Takes the purse.] As I said, 'tis too great a bounty; but St Dominick 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 do 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 always loved the female saints.

Lor. I mean a female, mortal, married-woman saint. Look upon the superscription of this note. You know Don Gomez's wife?

[Gires 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 jealousy: 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 called me false apostle.

Lor. Did he so? That reflects upon you all; on my word, father, that touches your copyhold. If you would do a meritorious action, you might revenge the church's quarrel. 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 lie 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.

SCENE IV.-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 a 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 chat with you. Eiv. 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 past; 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 surgeon. 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 dreamed you were talking to the aforesaid purpose with one Colonel Hernando.

Ele. 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 marrow-bones, upon your allegiance, and make an acknowledgment of your offences; for I will have ample satisfaction.

[Pulls her down. Elo. 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 garbage; 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 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. [Aside.] There's no harm in that: she shall fast too: fasting saves money.

Dom. [To ELV.] What was the reason that I found you upon your knees, in that unseemly posture?

Gom. [Aside.] Oh, horrible! To find a woman upon her knees, he says, is an unseemly posture: there's a priest for you.

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. [Aside.] This goes well. Gomez, stand you at a distance-farther yet-stand out of earshot-I have somewhat to say to your wife in private.

Gom. [Aside.] Was ever man thus priest-ridden? Would the steeple of his church were in his belly; I am sure there's room for it.

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 keepyour 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 abomiBable.-Pray Heaven this 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. [Aside.] 'Tis he, for certain: she has saved the credit of my function, by speaking first: now I must 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?

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

Elo. 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 great 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, down-cast 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 on't.-What makes you listening there? Get farther off: I preach not to thee, thou wicked eaves-dropper.

Elo. I'll kneel down, father, as if I were ta king 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