once borrowed five hundred Livres of an honest Citizen in Paris, and repay'd him by lying with his Wife: And what sits nearest my Heart, was forced to pay a young Cavalier the same Sum, by suffering him to lie with mine.

Mart. Oh!

Jourd. And yet what are these to what I have done since I commenced Merchant. What have I not done to get a Penny. I insured a Ship for a great Value, and then cast it away; I broke when I was worth a hundred thousand Livres, and went over to London. I settled there, renounced my Religion, and was made a Justice of Peace.

Mart. Oh! that Seat of Heresy and Damnation! that Whore of Babylon!

Jourd. With the Whores of Babylon did I unite: I protected them from Justice: Gaming-houses and Baudy-houses did I license, nay, and frequent too; I never punished any Vice but Poverty: for Oh! I dread to name it: I once committed a Priest to Newgate for picking Pockets.

Mart. Oh! monstrous! horrible! dreadful! I'll hear no more. Thou art damn'd without Reprieve.

Jourd. Take Pity, Father, take Pity on a Penitent.

Mart. Pity! the Church abhors it. 'Twere Mercy to such a Wretch to pray him into Purgatory.

Jourd. I'll give all my Estate to the Church, I'll found Monasteries, I'll build Abbies.

Mart. All will not do, ten thousand Masses will not deliver you.

Jourd. Was ever such a miserable Wretch!

Mart. Thou hast Sins enough to damn thy whole Family. Monstrous Impiety! to lift up the Hand of Justice against the Church.

Jourd. Oh speak some Comfort to me: will no Penance expiate my Crime?

Mart. It is too grievous for a single Penance, go settle your Estate on the Church, and send your Daughter to a Nunnery, her Prayers will avail more than yours: Heaven hears the young and innocent with Pleasure. I will, my self, say four Masses a-day for you; and all these, I hope, will purchase your Forgiveness, at least your Stay in Purgatory will be short.

Jourd. My Daughter! She is to be married to-morrow, and I shall never prevail on her.

Mart. You must force her; your all depends on it.

Jourd. But I have already sworn I will not force her.

Mart. The Church absolves you from that Oath, and it were now Impiety to keep it. Go, lose not a Moment, see her entered with the utmost Expedition; she may put it out of your Power.

Jourd. What a poor miserable Wretch am I?

SCENE X.

Martin solus.

Thou art a miserable Wretch indeed! And it is on such miserable Wretches depends our Power: that Superstition which tears thy Bowels, feeds ours. This Nunnery is a Master-piece, let me but once shut up my dear Isabel from every other Man, and the Warmth of her Constitution may be my very powerful Friend. How far am I got already from the very Brink of Despair, by the Despair of this old Fool. Superstition, I adore thee,

Thou handle to the cheated Layman's Mind,
By which in Fetters Priestcraft leads Mankind.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Jourdain, Isabel.

Jourdain.

Have you no Compassion for your Father, for him that gave you being? Could you bear to hear me howl in Purgatory?

Isa. Lud! Pappa! Do you think your putting me into Purgatory in this World, will save you from Purgatory in the next? If you have any Sins you must repent of them your self; for I give you my Word, I have enough to do to repent of my own.

Jourd. You will soon wipe off that Score, and will be then in a Place where you cannot contract a new one.

Isa. Indeed, Sir, to shut a Woman out from Sin is not so easy. But, dear Sir, how can it enter into your Head, that my Penance can be acceptable for your Sin? Take my Word, one Week's fasting will be of more Service to you than this long Fast you would enjoin me.

Jourd. Alas! Child, if fasting would do, I am sure I have not been wanting to my Duty: I have fasted till I am almost worn away to nothing; I have almost fasted my self into Purgatory, while I was fasting my self out of it.

Isa. But whence comes all this Apprehension of your Danger?

Jourd. Whence should it come, but from the Church.

Isa. Oh! Sir, I have thought of the most lucky thing. You know, my Cousin Beatrice is just going into a Nunnery, and she will pray for you as much as you would have her.

Jourd. Trifle not with so serious a Concern. No Prayers but yours will ever do me good.

Isa. Then you shall have them any where but in a Nunnery.

Jourd. They must be there too.

Isa. That will be impossible: for if I was there, instead of praying you out of Purgatory, my Prayers would be all bent to pray my self out of the Nunnery again.

SCENE II.

Old Laroon, Jourdain, Isabel.

Old. Lar. A Dog, a Villain, put off my Son's Match. Mr. Jourdain, your Servant; will you suffer a Rogue of a Jesuit to defer your Daughter's Marriage a whole Week?

Jourd. I am sorry, Mr. Laroon, for the Disappointment, but her Marriage will be deferred longer than that.

Old. Lar. How, Sir!

Jourd. She is intended for another Marriage, Sir, a much better Match.

Old. Lar. A much better Match!—

Isa. Yes, Sir, I am to be sent to a Nunnery, to pray my Father out of Purgatory.

Old Lar. Oh! Ho!—We'll make that Matter very easy: he shall have no Fear of Purgatory; for I'll send him to the Devil this Moment. Come, Sir, draw, draw—

Jourd. Draw what, Sir!

Old Lar. Draw your Sword, Sir.

Jourd. Alas, Sir, I have long since done with Swords, I have broke my Sword long since.

Old Lar. Then I shall break your Head, you old Rogue.

Jourd. Heyday——you are mad; what's the Matter?

Old Lar. Oh! no matter, no matter, you have used me ill, and you are a Son of a Whore, that's all.

Jourd. I wou'd not, Mr. Laroon, have my Conscience accuse me of using you ill: I would not have preferred any earthly Match to your Son, but if Heaven requires her—

Old Lar. I shall run mad.

Jourd. I hope my Daughter has Grace enough to make an Atonement for her Father's Sins.

Old Lar. And so, you wou'd atone for all your former Rogueries, by a greater, by perverting the Design of Nature! Was this Girl intended for praying! Hearkee, old Gentleman, let the young Couple together, and they'll sacrifice their first Fruits to the Church.

Jourd. It is impossible.

Old Lar. Well, Sir, then I shall attempt to persuade you no longer; so, Sir, I desire you would fetch your Sword.

SCENE III.

Young Laroon in a Friar's Habit, Old Laroon, Jourdain.

Y. Lar. Let Peace be in this House——Where is the Sinner Jourdain?

Jourd. Here is the miserable Wretch.

Old Lar. Death and the Devil, another Priest.

Y. Lar. Then know I am thy Friend, and am come to save thee from Destruction.