Sir Ralph. Well now, Frank Jerningham, how sayest thou?[289]
To be brief—
What wilt thou say for all this, if we two,
Her father and myself, can bring about,
That we convert this nun to be a wife,
And thou the husband to this pretty nun?
How then, my lad, ha? Frank, it may be done.
Har. Ay, now it works.
Frank. O God, sir! you amaze me at your words;
Think with yourself, sir, what a thing it were
To cause a recluse to remove her vow:
A sainted,[290] contrite, and repentant soul,
Ever mortified with fasting and with prayer,
Whose thoughts, even as her eyes, are fix'd on heaven.
To draw a virgin thus devout with zeal
Back to the world: O impious deed!
Nor by the canon-law can it be done
Without a dispensation from the church;
Besides, she is so prone unto this life,
As she'll even shriek to hear a husband nam'd.
Bil. Ay, a poor innocent, she! Well, here's no knavery;
He flouts the old fools to their teeth. [Aside.
Sir Ralph. Boy, I am glad to hear
Thou mak'st such scruple of thy[291] conscience;
And in a man so young as is yourself,
I promise you 'tis very seldom seen.
But, Frank, this is a trick, a mere device—
A sleight plotted betwixt her father and myself
To thrust Mounchensey's nose beside the cushion;[292]
That being thus debarr'd of all access.
Time yet may work him from her thoughts,
And give thee ample scope to thy desires.
Bil. A plague on you both for a couple of Jews.
[Aside.
Har. How now, Frank, what say you to that?