MOUNTCHENSEY.
But do you yet repent you of the same?
MILLISCENT.
Yfaith, I cannot.
MOUNTCHENSEY.
Nor will I absolve thee
Of that sweet sin, though it be venial;
Yet have the penance of a thousand kisses,
And I enjoin you to this pilgrimage:
That in the evening you bestow your self
Here in the walk near to the willow ground,
Where I'll be ready both with men and horse
To wait your coming, and convey you hence
Unto a lodge I have in Enfield chase.
No more reply, if that you yield consent—
I see more eyes upon our stay are bent.
MILLISCENT.
Sweet life, farewell! Tis done: let that suffice;
What my tongue fails, I send thee by mine eyes.
[Exit]
[Enter Fabell, Clare, and Jerningham.]
JERNINGHAM.
Now, Visitor, how does this new made Nun?
CLARE.
Come, come, how does she, noble Capouchin?
MOUNTCHENSEY.
She may be poor in spirit, but for the flesh,
Tis fat and plump, boys. Ah, rogues, there is
A company of girls would turn you all Friars.
FABELL.
But how, Mountchensey? how, lad, for the wench?