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? [Takes the Purse.] As I said, 'tis too great a bounty; but Saint 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.
[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 413 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.