Isa. Oh! Sir, I saw, and heard, and must believe, for none but the Church can contradict our Senses.
Old. Lar. So, so! the Distemper's hereditary, I find: the Daughter is as full of the Church as the Father. Come away, Son, come away: I would not have thee marry into such a Family, I shou'd be Grand-father to a Race of greasy Priests. 'Sdeath! this Girl will be brought to bed of a Pope one Day or other.
Isa. 'Tis out, 'tis out.
Mart. Oh prodigious! That such a Saint shou'd prophesy Truth through those Lips, whence the Devil has been thundring so many Lyes.
Old Lar. What Truth, Sir, what Truth?
Isa. Oh! Sir, the Blessing you mentioned, has been promised me! I am to give a Pope to the World.
Old Lar. Are you so, Madam? He shall have no Blood of mine in him, I'm resolv'd I'll never ask Blessings of a Grandson. Come away, Jack, come a way, I say; let us leave the Devil's Son, and the Pope's Mother together.
Yo. Lar. Remember, my Isabel, I only live in the Hopes of seeing you mine.
SCENE IX.
Martin, Isabel.