I'll follow him; and, perhaps, Louisa shall not singly be a bride.

SONG.

Adieu, thou dreary pile, where never dies
The sullen echo of repentant sighs:
Ye sister mourners of each lonely cell,
Inured to hymns and sorrow, fare ye
For happier scenes I fly this darksome
To saints a prison, but a tomb to love.

well;

grove,

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

A Court before the Priory.

Enter ISAAC, crossing the Stage.

Enter ANTONIO.

Ant. What, my friend Isaac!

Isaac. What, Antonio! wish me joy! I have Louisa safe.

Ant. Have you?-I wish you joy, with all my

soul.

Isaac. Yes, I am come here to procure a priest to marry us.

Ant. So, then we are both on the same errand, I am come to look for Father Paul.

Isaac. Hah! I am glad on't-but, i'faith, he must tack me first, my love is waiting.

Ant. So is mine,—I left her in the porch.

Isaac. Ay, but I am in haste to get back to Don Jerome.

Ant. And so am I too.

Isaac. Well, perhaps he'll save time, and marry us both together or I'll be your father, and you shall be mine. Come along- but you're obliged to me for all this.

Ant. Yes, yes.

[Excunt.

SCENE V.

A Room in the Priory.-FRIARS at the Table,

drinking.

GLEE AND CHORUS.

This bottle's the sun of our table,
His beams are rosy wine;
We, planets, that are not able,
Without his help to shine.
Let mirth and glee abound,
You'll soon grow bright,
With borrow'd light,
And shine as he goes round.

Paul. Brother Francis, toss the bottle about, and give me your toast.

Francis. Have we drank the abbess of St. Ursuline? Aug. Yes, yes; she was the last.

Francis. Then I'll give you the blue-ey'd nun of St. Catharine's.

Paul. With all my heart. [Drinks.] Pray, brother Augustine, were there any benefactions left in my ab

sence?

Francis. Don Juan Corduba has left an hundred ducats, to remember him in our masses.

Paul. Has he! let them be paid to our wine mer

G

chant, and we'll remember him in our cups, which will do just as well. Any thing more.

Aug. Yes; Baptista, the rich miser, who died last week, has bequeathed us a thousand pistoles, and the silver lamp, he used in his own chamber, to burn before the image of St. Anthony.

Paul. "Twas well meant, but we'll employ his money better-Baptista's bounty shall light the living, not the dead.-St. Anthony is not afraid to be left in the dark, though he was--See who's there.

[4 Knocking, FRANCIS goes to the Door, and opens it.

Enter PORTER.

Porter. Here's one without in pressing haste to speak with Father Paul.

Aug. Brother Paul!

[PAUL comes from behind a Curtain, with a Glass of Wine, and in his Hand a Piece of Cake. Paul. Here! how durst you, fellow, thus abruptly break in upon our devotions?

Porter. I thought they were finished.

Paul. No, they were not-were they, Brother Francis?

Aug. Not by a bottle each.

Paul. But neither you, nor your fellows, mark how the hours go-no, you mind nothing but the gratifying of your appetites; ye eat and swill, and sleep, and gormandize, and thrive, while we are wasting in mortification.

Porter. We ask no more than nature craves.

Paul. "Tis false, ye have more appetites than hairs! and your flushed, sleek, and pampered appearance, is the disgrace of our order-out on't-If you are hungry, can't you be content with the wholesome roots of the earth; and if you are dry, isn't there the crystal spring? [Drinks.] Put this away, [Gives a Glass.] and