| Come, sir, let's about it with speed: |
| 'Tis expedition gives our king the sway; |
| For expedition to the French give way; |
| Swift to attack, or swift—to run away. |
| Sorry indeed Æneas stood, |
| To see her in a pout; |
| But Jove himself, who ne'er thought good |
| To stay a second bout, |
| Commands him off, with all his crew, |
| And leaves poor Dy, as I leave you. |
ACT THE FOURTH
SCENE I.
Old Mirabel's House.
Enter Old Mirabel and Dugard.
Dug. The Lady Abbess is my relation, and privy to the plot.
Old Mir. Ay, ay, this nunnery will bring him about, I warrant ye.
Enter Duretete.
Dur. Here, where are ye all?—O, Mr. Mirabel! you have done fine things for your posterity—And you, Mr. Dugard, may come to answer this—I come to demand my friend at your hands; restore him, sir, or——
[To Old Mirabel.
Old Mir. Restore him! What, d'ye think I have got him in my trunk, or my pocket?
Dur. Sir, he's mad, and you are the cause on't.
Old Mir. That may be; for I was as mad as he when I begot him.
Dug. Mad, sir! What d'ye mean?
Dur. What do you mean, sir, by shutting up your sister, yonder, to talk like a parrot through a cage? or a decoy-duck, to draw others into the snare? Your son, sir, because she has deserted him, he has forsaken the world; and, in three words, has——
Old Mir. Hanged himself!
Dur. The very same—turned friar!
Old Mir. You lie, sir! 'tis ten times worse. Bob turned friar!—Why should the fellow shave his foolish crown, when the same razor may cut his throat?
Dur. If you have any command, or you any interest over him, lose not a minute: He has thrown himself into the next monastery, and has ordered me to pay off his servants, and discharge his equipage.
Old Mir. Let me alone to ferret him out: I'll sacrifice the Abbot, if he receives him; I'll try whether the spiritual or the natural father has the most right to the child.—But, dear Captain, what has he done with his estate?
Dur. Settled it upon the church, sir.
Old Mir. The church! Nay, then the devil won't get him out of their clutches——Ten thousand livres a year upon the church!—'Tis downright sacrilege—Come, gentlemen, all hands to work: for half that sum, one of these monasteries shall protect you a traitor from the law, a rebellious wife from her husband, and a disobedient son from his own father.[Exit.
Dug. But will ye persuade me that he's gone to a monastery?
Dur. Is your sister gone to the Filles Repenties? I tell you, sir, she's not fit for the society of repenting maids.
Dug. Why so, sir?
Dur. Because she's neither one nor t'other; she's too old to be a maid, and too young to repent.
[Exit—Dugard after him.
SCENE II.
The Inside of a Monastery.
Enter Oriana, in a Nun's Habit, and Bisarre.
Oriana. I hope, Bisarre, there is no harm in jesting with this religious habit.
Bis. To me, the greatest jest in the habit, is taking it in earnest.
Oriana. But I'm reconciled, methinks, to the mortification of a nunnery; because I fancy the habit becomes me.
Bis. A well-contrived mortification, truly, that makes a woman look ten times handsomer than she did before!—Ay, my dear, were there any religion in becoming dress, our sex's devotion were rightly placed; for our toilets would do the work of the altar; we should all be canonized.
Oriana. But don't you think there is a great deal of merit in dedicating a beautiful face and person to the service of religion?
Bis. Not half so much as devoting them to a pretty fellow. Come, come, mind your business. Mirabel loves you, 'tis now plain, and hold him to't; give fresh orders that he shan't see you: we get more by hiding our faces, sometimes, than by exposing them; a very mask, you see, whets desire; but a pair of keen eyes, through an iron grate, fire double upon them, with view and disguise. But I must begone upon my affairs; I have brought my captain about again.
Oriana. But why will you trouble yourself with that coxcomb?
Bis. Because he is a coxcomb: had I not better have a lover like him, that I can make an ass of, than a lover like yours, to make a fool of me. [Knocking below.] A message from Mirabel, I'll lay my life! [She runs to the Door.] Come hither! run, thou charming nun, come hither!
Oriana. What's the news?[Runs to her.
Bis. Don't you see who's below?
Oriana. I see nobody but a friar.
Bis. Ah, thou poor blind Cupid! A friar! Don't you see a villanous genteel mien, under that cloak of hypocrisy?
Oriana. As I live, Mirabel turned friar! I hope, in Heaven, he's not in earnest.
Bis. In earnest! Ha! ha! ha! are you in earnest? Remember what I say, if you would yield to advantage, and hold out the attack; to draw him on, keep him off, to be sure.
The cunning gamesters never gain too fast, But lose at first, to win the more at last. [Exit.
Enter Young Mirabel, in a Friar's Habit.
Y. Mir. 'Save you, sister—Your brother, young lady, having a regard for your soul's health, has sent me to prepare you for the sacred habit, by confession.
Oriana. My brother's care I own; and to you, sacred sir, I confess, that the great crying sin, which I have long indulged, and now prepare to expiate, was love. My morning thoughts, my evening prayers, my daily musings, nightly cares, was love!
Y. Mir. She's downright stark mad in earnest! Death and confusion, I have lost her! [Aside.]—You confess your fault, madam, in such moving terms, that I could almost be in love with the sin.
Oriana. Take care, sir; crimes, like virtues, are their own rewards; my chief delight became my only grief; he, in whose breast I thought my heart secure, turned robber, and despoiled the treasure that he kept.
Y. Mir. Perhaps that treasure he esteemed so much, that, like the miser, though afraid to use it, he reserves it safe.
Oriana. No, holy father: who can be miser in another's wealth, that's prodigal of his own? His heart was open, shared to all he knew, and what, alas! must then become of mine! But the same eyes, that drew this passion in, shall send it out in tears, to which now hear my vow——
Y. Mir. [Discovering himself.] No, my fair angel! Here, on my knees, behold the criminal, that vows repentance his. [Kneels.] Ha! no concern upon her!
Enter Old Mirabel.
Old Mir. Where, where's this counterfeit nun?
Oriana. Madness! confusion! I'm ruined!
Y. Mir. What do I hear? [Puts on his Hood.] What did you say, sir?
Old Mir. I say she's a counterfeit, and you may be another, for aught I know, sir: I have lost my child by these tricks, sir.
Y. Mir. What tricks, sir?
Old Mir. By a pretended trick, sir. A contrivance to bring my son to reason, and it has made him stark mad; I have lost him, and a thousand pound a year.
Y. Mir. [Discovering himself.] My dear father, I'm your most humble servant.
Old Mir. My dear boy! [Runs and kisses him.]—Welcome, ex inferis, my dear boy! 'tis all a trick, she's no more a nun than I am.
Y. Mir. No!
Old Mir. The devil a bit.
Y. Mir. Then kiss me again, my dear dad, for the most happy news—And now, most venerable holy sister,[Kneels.
Your mercy and your pardon I implore, For the offence of asking it before. Lookye, my dear counterfeiting nun, take my advice, be a nun in good earnest; women make the best nuns always, when they can't do otherwise.
Oriana. O, sir! how unhappily have you destroyed what was so near perfection! He is the counterfeit, that has deceived you.
Old Mir. Ha! Lookye, sir, I recant; she is a nun.
Y. Mir. Sir, your humble servant; then I'm a friar this moment.
Old Mir. Was ever an old fool so bantered by a brace o' young ones! Hang you both! you're both counterfeits, and my plot's spoiled, that's all.
Oriana. Shame and confusion, love, anger, and disappointment, will work my brain to madness!
[Takes off her Habit—Exit.
Y. Mir. Ay, ay, throw by the rags; they have served a turn for us both, and they shall e'en go off together.
[Takes off his Habit.
[Exit, throwing away the Habit.