Vil. Oh, dear madam! I should be unconscionable to desire more; but really I was willing to have them all first. [Curtseying.

Ros. When will he come ?

Vil. Why, the poor gentleman has been hankering about the house this quarter of an hour; but I did not observe, madam, you were willing to see him till you had convinced me by so plain a proof.

Ros. Where's my father?

Vil. Fast asleep in the great chair.

Ros. Fetch him in then before he wakes.

Vil. Let him wake, his habit will protect him.
Ros. His habit!

Vil. Ay, madam, he's turned friar to come at

you: if your father surprises us, I have a lie ready -Hist, Octavio! you may enter.

to back him..

Enter OCTAVIO, in a Friar's Habit.

08. After a thousand frights and fears, do I live to see my dear Rosara once again, and kind ?

Ros. What shall we do, Octavio ?

[Looking kindly on him.

Oct. Kind creature! Do! why, as lovers should do; what nobody can undo; let's run away this minute, tie ourselves fast in the church-knot, and defy fathers and mothers.

Ros. And fortunes too?

02. Psha! we shall have it one day: they must leave their money behind them.

Ros. Suppose you first try my father's good-nature? You know he once encouraged your addresses.

08. First, let's be fast married: perhaps he may be good-natured when he cann't help it: "if we "should try him now, 'twill but set more upon his "guard against us: since we are listed under Love," don't let us serve in a separate garrison. Come, come, stand to your arms, whip a suit of nightclothes into your pocket, and let's march off in a body together.

Ros. Ah! my father!

Ott. Dead!

Vil. To your function.

Enter Don MANUEL.

D. Man. Viletta!

Vil. Sir.

D. Man. Where's my daughter?
Vil. Hist! don't disturb her.

D. Man. Disturb her! Why, what's the matter?
Vil. She's at confession, sir.

D. Man. Confession! I don't like that; a young woman ought to have no sins at all.

Vil. Ah dear sir, there's no living without them. D. Man. She's now at years of discretion.

Vil. There's the danger, sir; she's just of the tasting age: one has really no relish of a sin till fifteen.

D. Man. Ah! then the jades have swinging stomachs. I find her aversion to the marriage I have

proposed her has put her upon disobedient thoughts: there can be no confession without guilt.

Vil. Nor no pardon, sir, without confession.

D. Man. Fiddle faddle! I won't have her seem wicked. Hussy, you shall confess for her; I'll have her send her sins by you; you know 'em, I'm sure; but I'll know what the friar has got out of herSave you, father.

Oa. Bless you, son.

D. Man. How now! What's become of Father Benedict? Why is not he here?

Vil. Sir, he is not well; and so desired this gentlemen, his brother here, to officiate for him.

D. Man. He seems very young for a confessor.
Vil. Ay, sir; he has not been long at it.

Oct. Nor don't desire to be long in it: I wish I understand it well enough to make a fool of my old don here. [Aside.

D. Man.. Well, sir, how do you find the pulse of iniquity beat there? What sort of sin has she most stomach to ?

Oct. Why truly, sir, we have all frailties, and your daughter has had most powerful temptations.

D. Man. Nay, thedevil has been very busy with her these two days.

Oct. She has told me a most lamentable story.

D. Man. Ten to one but this lamentable story proves a most damnable lie.

Oct. Indeed, son, I find by her confession that you

are much to blame for your tyrannical government of her.

D. Man. Hey-day! what, has the jade been inventing sins for me, and confessing them instead of her own? Let me come-she shall be locked up till she repents them too.

Oct. Son, forbear; this is now a corroboration of your guilt this is inhuman.

D. Man. Sir, I have done; but pray, if you please, let's come to the point: what are these terrible cruelties that this tender lady accuses me of?

Ott. Nay, sir, mistake her not: she did not with any malicious design expose your faults, but as her own depended on them; her frailties were the consequence of your cruelty.

D. Man. Let's have them both antecedent and consequent.

Oct. Why, she confessed her first maiden innocent affection had long been settled upon a young gentleman, whose love to her you once encouraged, and after their most solemn vows of mutual faith, you have most barbarously broke in upon her hopes; and to the utter ruin of her peace, contracted her to a man she never saw.

D. Man. Very good! I see no harm in all this. Oct. Methinks the welfare of a daughter, sir, might be of weight enough to make you serious.

D. Man. Serious! so I am, sir. What a devil! must I needs be melancholy, because I have got her a good husband?

E

Oct. Her melancholy may tell you, sir, she cann't think him a good one.

D. Man. Sir, I understand thinking better than she, and I'll make her take my word.

Oct. What have you to object against the man she likes?

D. Man. The man I like.

Oct. Suppose the unhappy youth she loves should throw himself distracted at your feet, and try to melt you into pity.

D. Man. Ay! that if he can.

Oct. You would not, sir, refuse to hear him.

D. Man. Sir, I shall not refuse him any thing that I am sure will signify nothing.

Out. Were you one moment to reflect upon the pangs which separated lovers feel, were Nature dead in you, that thought might wake her.

D. Man. Sir, when I am asked to do a thing I have not a mind to do, my nature sleeps like a top.

Oct. Then I must tell you, sir, this obstinacy obliges me, as a churchman, to put you in mind of your duty, and to let you know too you ought to pay more reverence to our order.

D. Man. Sir, I am not afraid of the sin of marrying my daughter to the best advantage; and so, if you please, father, you may walk home againwhen any thing lies upon my conscience, I'll send for you.

O. Nay, then 'tis time to claim a lover's right, and to tell you, sir, the man that dares to ask Rosara from me is a villain. [Throws off his disguise.