Dom. Go to, go to; I find good counsel is but thrown away upon you.  Fare you well, fare you well, son!  Ah—­

Lor. How! will you turn recreant at the last cast?  You must along to countenance my undertaking:  we are at the door, man.

Dom. Well, I have thought on’t, and I will not go.

Lor. You may stay, father, but no fifty pounds without it; that was only promised in the bond:  “But the condition of this obligation is such, that if the above-named father, father Dominick, do not well and faithfully perform—­”

Dom. Now I better think on’t, I will bear you company; for the reverence of my presence may be a curb to your exorbitancies.

Lor. Lead up your myrmidons, and enter. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—­ELVIRA’S Chamber.

  Enter ELVIRA.

Elv. He’ll come, that’s certain; young appetites are sharp, and seldom need twice bidding to such a banquet.  Well, if I prove frail,—­as I hope I shall not till I have compassed my design,—­never woman had such a husband to provoke her, such a lover to allure her, or such a confessor to absolve her.  Of what am I afraid, then? not my conscience, that’s safe enough; my ghostly father has given it a dose of church-opium, to lull it.  Well, for soothing sin, I’ll say that for him, he’s a chaplain for any court in Christendom.

  Enter LORENZO and DOMINICK.

O, father Dominick, what news?—­How, a companion with you!  What game have you in hand, that you hunt in couples?

Lor. [Lifting up his Hood.] I’ll shew you that immediately.

Elv. O, my love!

Lor. My life!

Elv. My soul! [They embrace.

Dom. I am taken on the sudden with a grievous swimming in my head, and such a mist before my eyes, that I can neither hear nor see.

Elv. Stay, and I’ll fetch you some comfortable water.

Dom. No, no; nothing but the open air will do me good.  I’ll take a turn in your garden; but remember that I trust you both, and do not wrong my good opinion of you. [Exit DOMINICK.

Elv. This is certainly the dust of gold which you have thrown in the good man’s eyes, that on the sudden he cannot see; for my mind misgives me, this sickness of his is but apocryphal.

Lor. ’Tis no qualm of conscience, I’ll be sworn.  You see, madam, it is interest governs all the world.  He preaches against sin; why? because he gets by it:  He holds his tongue; why? because so much more is bidden for his silence.

Elv. And so much for the friar.

Lor. Oh, those eyes of yours reproach me justly, that I neglect the subject which brought me hither.

Elv. Do you consider the hazard I have run to see you here? if you do, methinks it should inform you, that I love not at a common rate.