_Don Ant_. What, my friend Isaac!

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

_Don Ant_. Have you? I wish you joy with all my soul.

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

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

_Isaac_. Ha! I'm glad on't--but, i'faith, he must tack me first; my love is waiting.

_Don Ant_. So is mine--I left her in the porch.

_Isaac_. Ay, but I'm in haste to go back to Don Jerome.

_Don 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 are obliged to me for all this.

_Don Ant_. Yes, yes. [_Exeunt_.]

SCENE V.--_A Room in the Priory_.

FATHER PAUL, FATHER FRANCIS, FATHER AUGUSTINE, _and other_ FRIARS, _discovered at a 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.

_Fran_. Have we drunk the Abbess of St. Ursuline?

_Paul_. Yes, yes; she was the last.

_Fran_. Then I'll give you the blue-eyed nun of St. Catherine's.

_Paul_. With all my heart.--[_Drinks_.] Pray, brother Augustine, were there any benefactions left in my absence?

_Aug_. Don Juan Corduba has left a hundred ducats, to remember him in our ma.s.ses.

_Paul_. Has he? let them be paid to our wine-merchant, and we'll remember him in our cups, which will do just as well. Anything 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.--[_Knocking_.] See who's there.

[FATHER FRANCIS _goes to the door and opens it_.]

_Enter_ PORTER.

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

_Fran_. Brother Paul!

[FATHER PAUL _comes from behind a curtain with a gla.s.s of wine, and in his hand a piece of cake_.]

_Paul_. Here! how durst you, fellow, thus abruptly break in upon our devotions?

_Port_. I thought they were finished.

_Paul_. No, they were not--were they, brother Francis?

_Fran_. 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 appet.i.tes; ye eat, and swill, and sleep, and gourmandise, and thrive, while we are wasting in mortification.

_Port_. We ask no more than nature craves.

_Paul_. 'Tis false, ye have more appet.i.tes 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 the gla.s.s_] and show me where I am wanted.--[PORTER _drains the gla.s.s_.--PAUL, _going, turns_.] So you would have drunk it if there had been any left! Ah, glutton! glutton! [_Exeunt_.]

SCENE VI.--_The Court before the Priory_.

_Enter_ ISAAC _and_ DON ANTONIO.

_Isaac_. A plaguey while coming, this same father Paul.--He's detained at vespers, I suppose, poor fellow.

_Don Ant_. No, here he comes.

_Enter_ FATHER PAUL.

Good father Paul, I crave your blessing.

_Isaac_. Yes, good father Paul, we are come to beg a favour.

_Paul_. What is it, pray?