Mart. The Church absolves you from that Oath, and it were now Impiety to keep it. Go, lose not a Moment, see her entered with the utmost Expedition; she may put it out of your Power.
Jourd. What a poor miserable Wretch am I?
SCENE X.
Martin solus.
Thou art a miserable Wretch indeed! And it is on such miserable Wretches depends our Power: that Superstition which tears thy Bowels, feeds ours. This Nunnery is a Master-piece, let me but once shut up my dear Isabel from every other Man, and the Warmth of her Constitution may be my very powerful Friend. How far am I got already from the very Brink of Despair, by the Despair of this old Fool. Superstition, I adore thee,
Thou handle to the cheated Layman's Mind,
By which in Fetters Priestcraft leads Mankind.
ACT II. SCENE I.
Jourdain, Isabel.
Jourdain.