MILLISCENT. You are all sweet traitors to my poor old father. O my dear life! I was a dream't to night That, as I was a praying in mine Psalter, There came a spirit unto me as I kneeled, And by his strong persuasions tempted me To leave this Nunry; and me thought He came in the most glorious Angel shape, That mortal eye did ever look upon. Ha, thou art sure that spirit, for there's no form Is in mine eye so glorious as thine own.
MOUNTCHENSEY. O thou Idolatress, that dost this worship To him whose likeness is but praise of thee! Thou bright unsetting star, which through this veil, For very envy, mak'st the Sun look pale!
MILLISCENT. Well, visitor, lest that perhaps my mother Should think the Friar too strickt in his decrees, I this confess to my sweet ghostly father: If chast pure love be sin, I must confess, I have offended three years now with thee.
MOUNTCHENSEY. But do you yet repent you of the same?
MILLISCENT. Yfaith, I cannot.
MOUNTCHENSEY. Nor will I absolve thee Of that sweet sin, though it be venial; Yet have the penance of a thousand kisses, And I enjoin you to this pilgrimage: That in the evening you bestow your self Here in the walk near to the willow ground, Where I'll be ready both with men and horse To wait your coming, and convey you hence Unto a lodge I have in Enfield chase. No more reply, if that you yield consent-- I see more eyes upon our stay are bent.
MILLISCENT. Sweet life, farewell! Tis done: let that suffice; What my tongue fails, I send thee by mine eyes.
[Exit]
[Enter Fabell, Clare, and Jerningham.]
JERNINGHAM. Now, Visitor, how does this new made Nun?
CLARE. Come, come, how does she, noble Capouchin?
MOUNTCHENSEY. She may be poor in spirit, but for the flesh, Tis fat and plump, boys. Ah, rogues, there is A company of girls would turn you all Friars.
FABELL. But how, Mountchensey? how, lad, for the wench?
MOUNTCHENSEY. Sound, lads, yfaith; I thank my holy habit, I have confest her, and the Lady Prioress Hath given me ghostly counsel with her blessing. And how say ye, boys, If I be chose the weekly visitor?
CLARE. Z'blood, she'll have nere a Nun unbagd to sing mass then.
JERNINGHAM. The Abbot of Waltham will have as many Children to put to nurse as he has calves in the Marsh.
MOUNTCHENSEY. Well, to be brief, the Nun will soon at night turn tippit; if I can but devise to quit her cleanly of the Nunry, she is mine own.
FABELL. But, Sirra Raymond, What news of Peter Fabell at the house?
MOUNTCHENSEY. Tush, he's the only man; A Necromancer and a Conjurer That works for young Mountchensey altogether; And if it be not for Friar Benedick, That he can cross him by his learned skill, The Wench is gone; Fabell will fetch her out by very magick.
FABELL. Stands the wind there, boy? keep them in that key. The wench is ours before to-morrow day. Well, Hal and Frank, as ye are gentlemen, Stick to us close this once! You know your fathers Have men and horse lie ready still at Chesson, To watch the coast be clear, to scout about, And have an eye unto Mountchensey's walks: Therefore you two may hover thereabouts, And no man will uspect you for the matter; Be ready but to take her at our hands, Leave us to scamble for her getting out.
JERNINGHAM. Z'blood, if all Herford-shire were at our heels, We'll carry her away in spite of them.
CLARE. But whither, Raymond?
MOUNTCHENSEY. To Brian's upper lodge in Enfield Chase; He is mine honest Friend and a tall keeper; I'll send my man unto him presently T' acquaint him with your coming and intent.
FABELL. Be brief and secret.
MOUNTCHENSEY. Soon at night remember You bring your horses to the willow ground.
JERNINGHAM. Tis done; no more!
CLARE. We will not fail the hour. My life and fortune now lies in your power.
FABELL. About our business! Raymond, let's away! Think of your hour; it draws well of the day.
[Exit.]
ACT IV.
SCENE I. Enfield Chase.
[Enter Blague, Smug, and Sir John.]
BLAGUE. Come, ye Hungarian pilchers, we are once more come under the zona torrida of the forest.