FRANK. The wench is gone, harry; she is no more a woman of this world: mark her well, she looks like a Nun already. What thinkst on her?
HARRY. By my faith, her face comes handsomely to 't. But peace, let's hear the rest.
SIR ARTHUR.
Madam, for a twelvemonths approbation,
We mean to make this trial of our child.
Your care and our dear blessing in mean time
We pray may prosper this intended work.
PRIORESS.
May your happy soul be blithe,
That so truly pay your tithe:
He who many children gave,
Tis fit that he one child should have.
Then, fair virgin, hear my spell,
For I must your duty tell.
MILLISCENT.
—Good men and true, stand together, and hear your charge.
PRIORESS.
First, a mornings take your book,
The glass wherein your self must look;
Your young thoughts, so proud and jolly,
Must be turnd to motions holy;
For your busk, attires, and toys
Have your thoughts on heavenly joys;
And for all your follies past
You must do penance, pray, and fast.
BILBO. —Let her take heed of fasting; and if ever she hurt her self with praying, I'll ne'er trust beast.
MILLISCENT.
—This goes hard, berladye!
PRIORESS.
You shall ring the sacring bell,
Keep your hours, and tell your knell,
Rise at midnight at your matins,
Read your Psalter, sing your latins,
And when your blood shall kindle pleasure,
Scourge your self in plenteous measure.
MILLISCENT.
—Worse and worse, by Saint Mary.