_Pirro._ To his just Suit I bend my Knees--be not bia.s.s'd by aught but Justice.

_Euph._ Thou speakest like an Enemy, call it Revenge--not Justice----My Lord.----

_Gov._ I'll hear no more, be silent; if the Law will save him, he shall live, if not, he dies; yes, my Lord, you shall have Justice---- [_Exeunt._

SCENE _changes to_ Gravello's _House_.

_Enter_ Larich, Francisco, _and_ Lavinia.

_Lar._ Body o'me! here's mad Work abroad, my Niece is stolen: I'm resolv'd to make sure of you; the Priest shall join you instantly.

_Fran._ Haste, Sir, to consummate our Joy: I'll call the Muses from their sacred Hill, To emulate your Daughter's Beauty; And I'll, myself, in lofty Numbers sing my own Epithalamium.

_Lar._ First I'll punish that Impostor----Here, bring in the Prisoner.

_Lav._ Oh! I fear we are undone, _Francisco_.

_Fran._ Pray, Father, delay not my exorbitant Desires.

_Lar._ But for a Moment, learn'd Son, And thy exorbitant Desires shall be satisfied.

_Enter_ Sancho _and_ Tristram, _forc'd in by Servants_.

_San._ Hey-day! What's the Matter now: Is the old Gentleman grown generous? Must we take a Bottle in his own House, ha?

_Lar._ Sirrah, you are a very impudent Impostor.

_San._ Hey, what's here, Frank in my Cloaths? what is there a Play to be acted? ha? what Part must I play? I have acted a Part at the College e'er now, Pox on't, that College will run in my Head, pr'ythee what am I to play, _Francisco_.

_Fran._ The Fool, Sir.

_San._ That's something blunt tho' _Frank_.

_Lar._ Ha! what do I hear? _Francisco_? sure that's the Fellow my Daughter is in Love with, I must enquire into this.

_Fran._ My Reverend Patree, I hope you'll not credit this illiterate Idiot, you knew me by my Scholastic Breeding.

_San._ Why what does he mean now? Breeding! why, why, why, you wer'nt half so long at _Salamanca_ as I, _Frank_, if you go to that _Tristram_, where are my Books, _Tristram_? we'll soon see who's most learn'd.

G???? p?????? ??? ???s??ta? p????.

You must not think to catch old birds with Chaff.

??? d?? pas?? ??? ??? ?????a.

He knows not a Hawk from a Handsaw.

_Fran._ The Man's distracted, Sir, away with him to Prison.

_San._ To Prison! nay, then the Truth shall out, that Habit's mine, and these Cloaths are his, he told me that this Lady wou'd hate a Scholar, and taught me how to act the Bully, fackins he did now, ask _Tristram_ else.

_Lar._ Here's strange juggling, I believe neither of you is Seignior _Sancho_'s Son.

_Trist._ Bless me, Sir, do you doubt my Master? why he's as like my old Master as if he was spit out of his Mouth.

_Lav._ Methinks now by the Description, Father, this Scholar must needs be Don _Sancho_, and this aukward Beau but a Pretender.

_Lar._ Peace, I'll have none of your Judgment.

_San._ A Pretender, odsbud, I find she is in Love with a Scholar, what a Sot was I to be persuaded to change my Habit, I shall be fobb'd of my Mistress, by and by, why _Frank_, why thou wilt not fob me wilt thou.

_Lar._ Right, that Project will take,----come who produces me a Letter from my Friend, I know the Hand, and that shall decide the Business.

_Trist._ Here, here, Sir, here's Letters.

[_Pulls out a Leather Pouch with Letters, and gives it to_ Larich.

_San._ That's my Father's Hand, I can a.s.sure you, Sir, but the Stile is _Solomon_'s, they are freight with Wisdom, but my Father pays the Postage.

_Lav._ Now we're undone, we are certainly betray'd.

_Fran._ Have Courage, I will still be near thee, and prevent this Marriage or lose my Life.

_Lav._ My Woman shall give you Notice of their Proceedings.

_Lar._ I am convinc'd, and worthy Sir, I ask your Pardon, what an Escape have I had.

_San._ Pr'ythee _Frank_ don't frown so, faith I forgive thee with all my Heart.

_Fran._ Away you Dolt----

_San._ Fackings _Tristram_, he's woundy out of Humour, I have fob'd him now Faith, he, he, he.

_Lar._ Sir, I desire your scholastic Breeding wou'd quit my temporal Habitation [to _Francisco_,] least I commit you to a closer Place, and thank this Gentleman for your Liberty, 'tis because he has some small Acquaintance with you, that I don't proceed in a rougher Manner.

_Fran._ I am defenceless now, but I shall find a Time. [_Exit._

_Lar._ To be hang'd I hope, come Mrs. I suppose you had a Hand in this wise Plot, I'll prevent your Stratagems, I'll noose and fetter you in the Chains of Wedlock, then if you plot, let _Sancho_ look to't.

_For when they are wed the Father's Care is done,_

Trist. _And the poor doting Husband's just begun._

ACT IV. SCENE _the Governor's House.