AH, Inis! My Indisposition is not to be cur'd.

Not without apply­ing the proper Medicine I grant ye.—Well, had I such a Confessor as Father Bernardo—I say no more—but I sancy nothing wou'd trouble my Conscience long.

My Meaning depends upon yours, Ma­dam; pray what do you mean by painting Farther Bernardo's Picture in every Room in the House, at your Beds-head, your Toilet, at the Bottom of your Crucifix, at every Cor­ner of your Handkerchief, nay upon your ve­ry Fan too, as if the Good Father, like the Traveller in the Fable, cou'd heat and cool at once?

Is there any harm in wearing a good Man's Picture? Is he not one of the Pillars of our Church? Eminent for de claiming against Herisy and Schism, and fain wou'd reconcile the World to Rome s pure Religion? Oh they are blest that he Converts, happy the Pair, who e'er they be, that are in Wedlock joyn'd by him. Wou'd I had been one of those.

If the Good Father has this healing Art, Why are you uneasy? A little of his comfortable Consolation wou'd revive the Co­lour in those Cheeks, and give great Satis­faction to your Mind, or I have lost my Judg­ment, and I don't use to be out in my Guess, where Love's the Riddle.

Well, since thou hast hit my Distem­per so exactly, Girl, I'll confess ingeniously to thee, I do love Father Bernardo to Distra­ction, but how to discover my Passion, or what Reception it may meet with when dis­cover'd, is that which wracks me.

A kind one I warrant you, Madam: For tho' Priests are forbid to marry, as a mortal Sin, Fornication was never reckon'd [Page 3] more than Venial; and for Discovery, whilst there's Pen, Ink, and Paper in the World, a Woman can never be at a loss to tell her Mind. Write to him Madam, write to him.

But who shall carry it?

Your Irish Footman; he's a simple ho­nest Fellow, and may easily be manag'd; do you write your Letter, Madam, and I'll give him Instructions in the mean Time.

I'll do it this Minute.

Well Mrs. Inis; What Commands have you for Teague now?

Do you think you can do a Message cunningly, Teague?

Cunningly! Yes Faith, we are all so cunning now—What for a Message is it?

It is a Letter for Father Bernardo at the Convent of St. Francis; if you do it handsom­ly, a Moider is your Reward; do you hear, but if you make any Mistake—

Hub, bub, bub, bu, Mistake! No Faith won't I, Arra! An will you be after giving me the Moider indeed, and by my Shoul now?

Upon Honour.—

Arra, say no more now—I will be here agen in a Quarter of an Hour.

But you must stay for the Letter, Teague.

No, no, 'tis no Matter; I have a [Page 4] very clean Letter in my Pocket which will do very well, upon my Shoul.

and save Time, yes Faith will it.

Ha ha; no, no, Teague, that won't do; come along with me, and I'll give you the Letter; but if you shou'd meet my Master Don Pisalto, not a Word of the Letter for your Life—And I charge you to give it into no Hands but the Priests, and bring me an Answer, and then the Moider is your own.

Faith will I.—

Arra, pon my Shoul, I have for­got this plaguy Priest's Name—Yes Faith have I—Father Bom, Bom, Bom,—By St. Patrick I don't know who to ask for now—Arra, What shall I do?—Who the Devil shall I get to read the Outside of this Letter now?

For Father Bernardo.

Oh, pon my Shoulvation dat is the Name now.

Ha, my Maistre! What shall I say now,

Whither are you going with that Letter Sirrah? It is my Wives Hand,

Ha ha, pon my Shoul, a very good [Page 5] Jest, first reads the Direction, and then asks me whither it goes.

It may not prove so good a Jest as you think Sirrah—Who gave you that Letter?

Arra Maistre, you are very uncivil now to enquire into other Folks Business, so you are, yes Faith are you.

I shall be so very uncivil to break your Head Rascal, if you don't answer me to the Purpose; give me the Letter you Dog you.

Faith won't I—That's the Way to lose the Moider, which I am to have for carrying it.

A Moider for carrying it! Sure the Business must be very urgent, when the Postage is so dear. Give it me, I say, or or,

No pon my Shoul won't I.

Won't you Sirrah?

Arra, take the Letter

Pox upon me, if I don't wish the Devil had you both, yes Faith do I; for poor Teague loses his Moider now, and Mrs. Inis will never send me of no more Arrands, no Faith won't she.

Inis, Ho! Did she give it you—

Yes indeed now, and I believe there is some very great Sin in the Letter now, that the Good Father was to send his Pardon for, so I do.

Monstrous! What do I see? Yes here is a Sin with a Witness—

Dear Father, you'll forgive me when I tell you, that the more I see you, the more I hate my Husband, (very fine) and the more I pray a­gainst Temptation, the more powerfully my Inclinations plead in your Behalf, (Furies and Distraction,)—I implore your charitable Assistance to conquer this unruly Sin— (Yes I'll help you with a Vengance to you)—No­thing but your Company can prolong the Life of Flora.

Very well. Inis gave you this Letter you say!

Yes Faith did she—Arra dear honny Maistre, an you have don with the Letter give it now, that I may carry it to the Good Father, what de ye call him, or I shall lose the Moider, yes Faith shall I.

Ha! A lucky Thought comes in­to my Head, and this Fellows Simplicity is of use: Hark ye, Teague, come you along with me, I am acquainted with Father Ber­nardo, I'll procure you an Answer to this Let­ter—It is as you say, a Letter of Confession, and I believe Inis might not perform Articles with you, if she knew I had seen it; but take you no Notice of that, do you hear—And there is two Moiders for you Sirrah.

Oh. by my Shoul Teague is dumb—Now I shall have three Moiders; Faith this is a lucky beating for poor Teague; now will I drink St. Patrick's Health till I am as red as a Potato, yes Faith will I

I have had very odd Dreams to Night; methought I was in Bed with Lady Pisalto—Ah, wou'd it was true, for she is a charming Woman; by St. Anthony I never hear her Confession, but my Virtue is much stagger'd; the Flesh and Spirit hold strong Contention; Oh, she's a delicious Morsel.

Ha! Her Husband, I hope did not overhear me.

So, I have dispatch'd the Irishman. Ha! Father Bernardo, well met; I was go­ing to your Convent, I have a Favour to ask of you.

You command me, Senior, Pisalto, pray what is it?

Why I must desire you to procure me a Habit of your Order for an Hour or two.

I hope you have no Enterprize in View, that may scandalize the Priesthood.

Fy, fy, does a Man of my Years give you Room for Suspicion? Besides, I am a married Man you know.

And to the most beautiful Lady in Madrid—A Religious, Virtuous Lady; Ah, you are a happy Man, Senior.

A Curse of the Happiness—Her Virtue, and your Sanctity, Father, might have begot a Monster, call'd a Cuckold, if For­tune [Page 8] had not flung me in the Way to prevent it.

What say you, Senior!

I say I am contented, Father.

Contented! Why another Man wou'd be transported, ravish'd, nay almost guilty of Idolatry.

Humph! There wou'd have been fine Work if they had come together; Oh, these Priests are full of Abstinence, and Piety!

If you'll oblige me with a Habit, let it be immediately, and I shou'd be proud if you'd give me your Company this Evening to sup with my Wife and I; I'll assure you Fa­ther, she has a profound Respect for you.

I am much oblig'd to her, Senior, I'll not fail to accept your kind Invitation, come along with me and I'll give you the Habit.—A profound Respect for me—Oh, that it were Love.

I'll send for them this Minute, Fa­ther, but now I must pay a Visit to my vir­tuous Wife, and see how she bears her Ex­pectation.

He has answer'd me as I cou'd wish—Dear, dear Inis, how shall I reward thee? [Page 9] Take that in Earnest of my future Kindness, he says he will come in the Twilight, which will soon be here, tho' not so soon as I cou'd wish it:—He desires, for Reasons which he will give me, he says, to be admitted in the Dark, which caution does not displease me, since it will prevent the Confusion I shou'd be in after such a Declaration.—

He did that on purpose, Madam; he is a true Cavalier, and understands his Busi­ness to a Hair; he knows Darkness is neces­sary upon rhese Occasions; it prevents a La­dy's Blushes.—Ods heart, Madam, here's my Lord, I hear him cough.

Oh mischevious Minute;—Here, here, run down the back Stairs, and burn that Letter immediately.

I'll to my Book.

There she sits,—as if she knew nothing of the Matter,—a Cockatrice,—What always at thy Devotion, Figgup?

How can I pass my Time better in your Absence, Pudsey? Were it not for these good Books, I shou'd be very melancholy, when you are from me, Pudsey.

Hell confound her for a desembling Witch.

What ails my Pudsey? You look out of Humour with your nown Figgup, What have I done, ha?

Nothing yet I hope;—But that's no Fault of hers.

Nay, what are you studying for, Pud, ha!

Why if you must know, little Figgey,—then I'll tell thee; Don Cammaray lays claim to Part of that Estate I bought last Year, and I must he oblig'd to leave my dear Figgup for two or three Hours this Evening, in order to consult my Lawyers about that Matter, that's all Figgey;—And I was afraid thou should'st take it ill of thy nown Pud.

Lucky beyond Expression:

No, no, Pud, I am not so unreasonable nei­ther;—I can divert my self with my Books till thy return.—But do Puddey—make all the Haste you can to your nown Figgup—

Ay, ay, more haste than you'd wish I dare swear.

That I will my Precious.—

What never a parting Kiss, Pudsey? Oh you don't love your Figgup! Go, go, you are a naughty Hubby;—I I I I wish I cou'd love you less than I do, so I do.

Did ever Woman make a Cuckold with a better Grace? Ounds she outdoes an English Wife.—Nay don't weep Figgup; I'll stay with thee, let the Estate go how it will, rather than displease my little Figgey.—

Heaven forbid, that wou'd be carry­ing the Jest too far.

No, no, I don't desire that, Pud.

No, I dare swear it.

Go, but give me a kind Kiss first, Pudsey.

Ah you are a coaxing Baggage.

Well, Good by Figgey.

Good by Pudsey—with all my Heart.

He is gone Girl most fortunately.

I overheard all, and wish you Joy of this lucky Opportunity,—Come, come, Ma­dam, away to your Chamber, 'tis near the Time,—and there contemplate on your coming Joy; whilst I, your Harbinger of Bliss, wait to conduct the Man that is to crown your Happiness.

I fly, I fly Girl.

Bless me, what Noise was that!—My Heart akes horridly lest this old Cuff shou'd return and prevent my charming Priest.

Fear nothing, Father, strait forward is your Way to Happiness.

A Happiness, I fear, will bode somebody no Good. Hist, hist, Daughter! Where are you?

Ha! He's come,—here, here, my too charming Father, can you forgive a Wo­man's Weakness—

Common Frailties of Flesh and Blood,

if thou hast pray'd a­gainst it, thou hast done thy Part, and we are bound to comfort those that faint.

Oh, I have often pray'd, Father, but to no Purpose; you are the only Object of my Wishes, I blush, tho' in the Dark, to own how much I love you.—

Come to my Arms, and hide those Blushes in my Bosom.

Is your Husband safe▪

Safe enough, tho' long he will not stay, Fortune smil'd upon my Wishes, and call'd him luckily abroad.—

Then let us improve the little Time we have; thus let me cool the raging Feaver in your Blood.

Oh! What do you mean, to murder me? Inhumane Monster! Oh! Murder, Mur­der, Murder,—oh, oh, oh,

Bless me! What's the Matter, Madam?

Only administring a little Penance, Mistress; it won't be amiss to bestow a little Charity upon you too.

The Devil take you, and your Pe­nance too, you old sanctify'd Dog you: Thieves, Thieves; I'll have you equip'd for the Opera, Sarrah, I will so: A Light there a Light, here's Thieves in the House—Oh, oh, Murder, Thieves,—my Lady's mur­der'd.—

I must not stay for a Light, least they discover who I am:—One farewel Stroke—And now remember your Bene­factor, Mistress Bawd.

Yess, I shall remember with a Ven­geance.

Arra by my Shoul what is de Matter now? Is de House haunted? Has de great Devil and de little Devil put de Fright up­on you both together now?

Begon impertinent Fool.

Fool! Pon my Shoul Irishman are no Fools;—By St. Patrick, we make Fools of de very great many English, yes Faith and of de Spaniards too.

Get out Sirrah, or I'll fling the Can­dle at your Head.

Arra, Pox take your ugly Face, and him that wou'd put a Kiss upon't, for Teague.

Oh, I am kill'd Inis! This cursed Priest has kill'd me.

Was there ever such a Monster? I dare swear I am black from Head to Foot, he laid on most unmercifully:—Well my Mind [Page 14] misgives me, this Priest is no Man, this feels like an occasional Correction.

Occasional, do you call it? I'm sure he has given me occasion to remember it this Twelve-Month.

Figgup, why Figgup—where are you Child?

Ah Heaven, my Husband's Voice—return'd so soon! What shall I say for my In­disposition?

Oh Invention! Where art thou?

What, asleep little Figgy?

Asleep, Senior, no, no, alas my poor Lady had like to have been kill'd since you went.

Kill'd! As how? You make me tremble.

Going down Stairs, her Foot slipt, and down she tumbled from Top to Bottom, and bruiz'd her self so sadly, that she is not able to stir a Finger; it is a Mercy she was not kill'd out right.

Excellent Wench.

Here's a pure Jade at Invention.—They say the Devil's a Lyar, but I'll be hang'd if this Wench won't out-lye the Devil.—I'm heartily sorry for this Misfortune, poor dear Figgy;—but I hope thou hast not broke any Bones, my dear Figgup?

But I am much hurt, Pudsey.

I'm sorry for't, for I have invited Father Bernardo to sup wirh us; I met him hard by here, and brought him back with me,—because I know he is a Favourite with my Figgy.

Not so great a Favorite as he was, if you knew all.

I beg you wou'd excuse me, Pudsey, I cannot come down, besides I have no Sto­mach.

No! The Priest has given her and me Supper enough, more than we can digest this Twelve-month.

Well, if thou can'st not eat, there's no more to be said. Take Care of your Lady, Inis.—We'll drink thy Health little Figgup.

My Heart rises at the Villain, if I shou'd see him, I think in my Soul I should tear his Eyes out; Oh that I cou'd be reveng'd.

Reveng'd! What Revenge cou'd you take bad enough, Madam? 'Tis impossible to find Revenge equal to the Affront; A Ropes End to a Lady that expected!—I cou'd flea him alive, so I cou'd.

My Head akes greiveously.

Let me cover you up upon the Bed, Madam, a little Sleep will Settle your Head agen.

Your Lady possest say you?

'Tis even so Father, I left her well, and sound in her Senses, I thought, a­bout Two Hours ago; but now she raves, calls Names, Fights, and talks of being beat by every Body that comes near her.

Poor Lady, I am exceeding sorry, I'll take Care she shall be pray'd for by the whole Convent.

I wish you wou'd see her Father, perhaps your Ghostly Admonition might do her good. Men of your Holy Function have Power over unclean Spirits; pray try what you can do for her.

Withal my Heart, but I have no Holy Water about me;—nothing frights the Devil like Holy Water,—thence comes the Pro­verb, you know.

I can help you to some, please to walk this Way, Father.

Peace be here—Ha! She sleeps:—How invitingly she lies? Why what a deli­cious [Page 17] Morsel has this old sapless Long every Night to snoar over.

Well said Priest;—Oh this is a Holy Man; no Wonder he's the Women's Favourite.—

I feel a strange Disorder on the Sud­dain,—my Pulse beats quick, and every Sense seems ravish'd at this Object.—Ha! We are alone,—What hinders me to make use of the Opportunity?—

Zounds, I shall be Cuckolded be­fore my Face.

Besides, none dare to press upon our Privacy,—we have that Advantage above the Laity, I'll try; if she should prove vir­tuous, and resist, the Noise will pass upon her Husband, as the Effect of her Possession, for I shrewdly suspect, she is not mad indeed, and only puts it on to avoid the Embraces of that Skeleton, unfit for a Woman of her Youth and Fire.

Well, for a thorough pac'd Whore­master, commend me to a Priest, I say.

I'll try I'm resolv'd.

Very well,—Zounds, I shan't contain my self.—

Rapture! Her very Lips gives Ex­tasie!—She sleeps very sound—once more,

I dreamt! Ha! Bless me, the Mon­ster's [Page 18] here! Oh that I could look him dead.—

Oh do not rise my charming Angel, let me feast my Eyes upon that lovely Face, the perfect Image of the Blest above.

Do not insult me, thou ungrateful Traytor! Do not.

What means my Charmer? Oh for­give my rash Proceeding, and blame your Eyes, those dear bewitching Eyes, for all that I have done.

Off Monster, Devil, worse, if worse can be, than Devil, thou very Priest.—

Excellent, it works now as I wou'd have it.—

You thought you had kill'd me, I suppose,—but you shall find, I live to tear your Eyes out, Monster.

Help, Help, Help, bless me! She is really possest.

Ha! You here agen, Old Belzebub! but I'll be even with you now, I will so.

Ha, ha, I shall dye with Laugh­ing.

What do you mean Madam, pray be calm, I wou'd comfort you.

As how pray Father; I am much [Page 19] mistaken if you have any Thing that can com­fort a Lady.

Oh Wickedness! Have I nothing that can comfort a Lady?

Yes Villain, I can show your Marks of Comfort, I can so; but I'll be reveng'd on thee, I will.

Yes, and I can show 'em too; this for my Lady, this for my self.

Ha, ha, O rare Figgup, O rare Inis.

Bless me! By St. Anthony they are both possest, the Maid has caught her Frenzy too, in Nomine Domine.—

Ha, ha, O rare Priest, ha, ha.

I'll Nomine Domine you, you had better have hang'd your self in your Rope's End, than have used it about me, I'll make it a dear beating to you, Sirrah.

Oh Maria Mater ora pro nobis.

Ah! He'll drown me.—

Avant Sathan, I conjure thee, by St. Anthony, St. Bridget, and our Lady of Lo­retta.

—What, hoa, A Rape, A Rape, I'll cant you, I'll have you hang'd;—I'll shew the World the Jewel they doat on: I saw you when you [Page 20] wou'd have ravish'd my Lady,—thou Monster of Iniquity.

Mercy on me, the Devil is very strong in them both.

Ha, ha, I must release the Priest, or they'll murder him between them.—Oh the Rage of a disappointed Woman.—What's the Matter here? Pray Father withdraw, I am heartily sorry for your ill Treatment, it is their height of Frenzy you see Father; I'll wait upon you in the next Room immediately, you can do them no Good I see, Father.

Alas Senior, they are so strongly possest that no one Man can deal with them both.

Will you let him go Senior, why he wou'd have ravish'd my Lady, if I had not cry'd out.

No Mistress, you cry'd out be­cause he had not ravish'd your Lady.—Go troop Mistress, I ll reckon with you within.

And now Madam for you.—Do you know this Letter?

Ha! My Letter to Father Bernardo! the Villain has betray'd me!—and I'm un­done!

Why don't you answer me? What, are you dumb? Then I must fetch you to your Speech with this.

Ah! Defend me Heaven.

But why name I Heaven;—I have offended that in wronging you, tho' but in Thought;—Oh forgive me, have Pity on my Youth, and let me live, punish me as severely as you please, let even him who has betray'd me, name my Penance, and then I'm sure it will be harsh enough, what e'er it be, I will perform it most religiously.

I melt,—the cunning Baggage knows her Power.—

Oh! Do Pudsey do, won't you for­give your nown Figgup, can you pierce this Bosom you have kiss'd so often, and see your Figgeys Blood run trickling down?—

I am conquer'd, I can hold no lon­ger.—Rise Figgup, for this Time I will for­give thee; but on Condition you ne'er see your Ghostly Father more, no more Har­rangues in Praise of his Sanctity, and Holy­ness of Life; Do you hear, Figgey?

No never indeed, Pudsey.

Take heed, for if again I catch you faulty, look to it, expect no Pardon.