Rome's Follies, Or the Amorous FRIARS, A COMEDY.  
As it was lately Acted at a Person of Qualitie's HOUSE.  
LONDON Printed, for N. Nowell, 1681   

To the Right Honourable, Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of Shaftsbury, Baron Ashley of Wimborn and St. Giles, and Lord Cooper of Pawlet; and to the Right Honourable William, Lord Howard, Baron of Escrick.  
My LORDS,  
IT hath been the humour of most Writers in our Age, to magnify their Patrons so far above the Sphere of Nature, as to make of them more than Demigods; and with those servile glitterings of Flattery have they endeavoured to be for ever cherished in the Breasts of the Great. But my Lords, as it is against my Temper to dip my pen in such fashionable oil, so am I sensible your virtues need not that varnished Lustre, But Truth needs no Gloss, and She hath taken care to illustrate your worths to the whole Nation. It is She that saith you have ever appeared active for the public safety, without the least shadow of any sinister design. It is She that saith it was your wisdoms unravelled the black and damnable Conspiracies of our Enemies against our Gracious King and Government, and prudently endeavoured to defeat those mischiefs which were coming upon us; and for your Recompense, their Revenge Shrouded you in a bewailed Confinement for a time; but now you are freed from that injurious Eclyps', and now your Innocency's Triumph again. The hand of Providence hath wonderfully shamed and confounded the Nation's and your Enemies, who may now blush at their Actions, and, holding down their Heads disconsolately, cry out, the Snare we have laid for others, we are fallen into ourselves. I question not, but these sordid, whymsical and ridiculous Contrivances of theirs, have created many Converts, and that those whose eyes were but half open before, do now see as plain as the Sun is visible to them at Noon, that Plots, and no Plots, and Protestant-Plots too, are all but one Hellish, Popish Plot, however curiously the Roman Anatomists have endeavoured to dissect it.  
My Lords, it may be thought a great presumption in me, to offer you a Play which never run the Risk of an hiss on either of the theatres; some will say it ought not to pass Muster for that very reason: But my Lords, I can boldly affirm say that this is not the first Play that hath been published & not Acted on the public Stage. Mr. Dryden's Fall of Man tho' an excellent Poem, yet never appeared there. I could name many more, had I not other reasons perhaps more important, for the non-acting of it at either of those places, the Subject being not a little Satyrical against the Romanists, would very much hinder its taking, and would be far more difficult to get played than Caesar Borgio was: or if it should chance to have been played, might have found a colder entertainment than Tegue O Divelly, The Irish Priest, at the Duke's Theatre, merely for the Subject's sake. The Reasons I have humbly offered your Lordships, will, I hope, gain your approbation in the necessity of its not having been offered to be Acted at either of the Houses.  
And tho' your Lordship's Wisdoms may esteem Plays as no other than pleasing vanities, so judge this not worth your Grave perusals: Yet I will be bold to inform you, that you will find here some Truths, as well as Truthless Fancies. It therefore implores your favourable acceptance, as the Author doth your Pardons, with a Candid Construction of his presumption, who subscribes himself  
My LORDS, Your Honours most humble and Obedient Servant, N. N.   

The PROLOGUE.  
'Tis hard adventuring in this giddy Age,  
To make a Pope or Friar grace a Stage.  
When many partial Eyes with Anger stairs,  
And Pens are fallen together by the Ears.  
Fie, this is impious, saith a Popish Sire,  
Thus to abuse a Churches Holy Friar.  
You Cursed Poet, by what Godly Rule,  
Dost thou Religion turn to Ridicule?  
The truly Ancient Doctrine too below,  
Which from the first to th' present Age did flow.  
But saith the Poet then, though no Divine,  
Clouds muffle up that Sun which once did shine.  
Such Poisonous Damps of Error deck it round,  
Whose stifling Follies doth the World confound.  
To soil what's sacred, he's not such an Elf,  
He writes of what hath ridiculed itself.  
And thus in Comedy he deals, while he,  
Might have depicted Rome in Tragedy.  
With Streams of Blood, running through every Street,  
And Bleeding Martyrs at their murderers Feet.  
But that which now will be the pretty'st Jig,  
He will, like some of you, be thought a Whig.  
In Conscience tho, I'll clear him here before ye,  
He's known for neither Papist, Whigg nor Tory.  
Oh monstrous strange cry you, What is he then?  
And what the Devil must we make o'th' Man?  
Even what you will, he's at your Mercy now,  
And though you're Critical some kindness show.  
He's Plotter also turned, have pity on him,  
If's Plot takes not, the Pope hath near undone him.  
'Tis true, here are no Scenes to Grace our Show,  
No middle Gallery, nor Pitt below.  
What if our Stage thus nakedly appears.  
If not your Eyes, we'll strive to please your Ears.   

Men ACTORS.  

Marforio. An old Rich Neapolitan Doctor of Physic; in Love with Florimell.  
Father Turbin. A Lascivious Friar, but hath the Vogue of Holy; in Love with Florimell.  
Father Lupin. His Comrade, in Love with Isabel.  
Senior Ronsard. An Italian old Gentleman, Father to Florimell.  
The Pope, with Cardinals, Bishops, and other Attendants.  
Old Croff, a Jesuit and great Necromancer.  
The Ghost of Pope 

Clement the First,  
Boniface the Eighth,  
Gregory the Third,  
Innocent the Third,  
Pope Joan.     

Women Actors.  
Florimell, An Airy young Lady, Daughter to Ronsard, Married afterwards to Marforio, in Love with Father Turbin.  
Isabella her woman, in Love with Father Lupin. 

1. Woman a Neighbour.  
2. Woman a neighbour.    
Choristers, Friars, Rabble, etc.   
Scene, The City of Rome.   

Rome's Follies, Or the Amorous FRIARS, A Comedy.  

ACT the 1st.  

Scene a Chamber.  Enter Florimell and Isabel. Flor. 
BUT are you in earnest Isabel? Do you think that old, impotent Picture of December would  himself with Blooming Flowers of cheerful May? Ridiculous Fool! Doth he think that cold, sapless, shriveled Age, can agree with the warmth of tender Youth? Marry me? let him Marry a winding-Sheet, that's fit for him.  Isa. 
I'm only suspicious Madam, for he never sees you at Mass, but he looks on you as if he would eat you: if he chance to be at too great a distance from you, he claps his Spectacles on his Nose; and makes the whole Congregation stare at him, for his staring at you. Come, I believe it must be a Match at last, tho' a very unequal one; especially if he asks your Father's consent; for you know the old, rotten piece of Flesh is Rich, and Riches are tempting.  Flo. 
You say right in that, my Father not being much beholding to Fortune, I must expect no great matters from him; the old Fool's Riches therefore may be the only persuasive Argument to make me consent at last.  Isa. 
I don't know, were it my case, I should not need much urging.  Flo. 
But how I'm frighted when I consider, I must be Bedded to Diseases, and clammy Clay: in lieu of tasting the Spicy Varieties of Love, I shall have my Sense of Smelling disturbed with an infectious, poisonous Air, fuming from his foggy Lungs; in lieu of being charmed with Harmonious Sounds of Love, I shall have no other entertainment for my Ears, than tedious Coughing, and unwholesome Grunting all the Night long, and in a Morning, when my Sight should be pleased in viewing the gallant Object that entertained my Love all night, I shall have the prospect of Death in a Slumber, his bloodless Visage withered, and his hollow eyes, distilling Rheum down the furrows of his Face; 
As in a thaw the Snow melts down in Drops  
Into the Kennels from the houses tops   Isa. 
Yet were I you, all this I could bear, and patiently too, especially when I considered Madam; how greatly my Fortunes would improve by it.  Flor. 
Nay if I'm importuned, I'll not be obstinate, though I know the ill consequence of such a match in several other respects: horrible. Jealous I'm sure he'll be, for Jealousy, and Old age are inseparable Companions: he'll be pevish too, and perhaps covetous; Judge then what a prospect of mischief I have before my View, If I hazard myself thus. As for his Jealousy perhaps I may give him cause as his impotency may justly deserve.  Isa. 
I vow Madam I think you speak but reason: I'im sure Nature never made us women for useless men; but here comes your father.  Enter Ronsard Rons. 
Well, how now, how is it with you daughter?  Flor. 
Just as it is with most Virgins of my years Father, that would know more of the world than we do.  Rons. 
So, so, very well; you'll never leave your old triks, you are very pert me thinks: what think you of swallowing the vow of Chastity, and living in a Monastery? that was my design, once.  Flor. 
Why, I think I should have lived and been holy both together.  Rons. 
That's, odd indeed, what's your meaning?  Flor. 
Why, the resemblance of a Nun, shut up in a Monastery makes me appear Holy, and the Vow that I should make would be a sin to countervail with it: for I should tell Nature a lie to her Face: besides my Faith is a little wavering in that particular that our Mother Church enjoins us to believe; for I can scarce think her Capable of bestowing on us the gift of Chastity; how can she give that Blessing to others which she wants herself?  Rons. 
Daughter you talk as if you were mad; for heaven sake say no more, we shall have you clapped into the Inquisition. But to wave this discourse what think you of a Husband now?  Flor. 
Why, if he be, sound, wind and limb, I think he may do good Service.  Rons. 
Yes, that may be, that may be truly. But what think you of a rich Husband that shall raise the honour of our Family?  Flo. 
What, Father you mean an Husband whose Riches hides all other defects? why I may (not to be ungrateful) endeavour to raise the honour of his Family too.  Rons. 
Well I have an Husband for you: truly he is something stricken in years, but he is a bonny tough Blade, and he is rich enough; It is Marforio the Neapolitan-Doctor, he'll come to see you by and by: I charge you to entertain him and encourage him in his Addresses to you; I promise you he is a good Honest, Sober, well-meaning Gentleman.  Isa. 
The only Character given to most Fools and Cuckolds.  Aside. Rons. 
And he'll love you not with a lascivious hare-brained Love, like Giddy, foolish youth, but his love will be solid; and he'll instruct you in the Rudiments of Virtue; he'll reach you sobriety, and wisdom, which affords more solid pleasure, in Love than ever frothy, flashy youth did taste.  Flo. 
This is the right discourse of all Superannuated Coxcombs, when they are passed loving like Vigorous youth; then they exclaim against the true pleasures of love, only because they want power to taste'em,  Aside Rons. 
Well Daughter, I say no more, I say no more; be wise and dutiful, or the frowns of a father will fall heavy upon you: remember what I told you be sure you; behave your self well before him.  Exit Ronsard. Flo. 
Sir, I shall perform my duty; fough! what pleasant Discourse hath here been in praise of grey hairs, and wrinkles, to induce youth to dally with them? I see thy suspicions were not for nothing Isabel, for I find he hath been already with my Father, and hath gained his Consent, and I believe the old fool will be here shortly to ask mine too.  Isa. 
He hath trimmed himself up of late like any youthful spark, which becomes him as a Cardinal's Cap would a Cow, he exerciseth his limbs at a more Nimble rate too, and is indeed mighty modish and spruce; you think you shall be Courted by a piece of cold, living Ice, and I, on the Contrary, fancy he'll meet you like a Will i'th' Wisp, all Fire and Flame.  Flo. 
Yes I believe so too, for I expect all Vapour and no Substance. I believe I shall be forced to use other measures when I am yoked to him.  Isa. 
Alas he'll lie so loveingly by your side Madam; give you sometimes a snowy kiss; hit you a pat or two on the Cheek, and call you little Rogue, and then make you play with his beard so prettily, that it will be apleasure to your thoughts ever after.  Flo. 
You're a fleering slut; well but 'tis no matter, his Gold will cover me all over with patience to endure the worst: but stay here he comes I think.  Enter Marforio. Mar. 
Lady your humble servant.  Smiling Flo 
Ha! Signior Marforio me thinks you look as if you were growing young again; you are very spruce, and trim.  Mar. 
Dad I don't look so old, do I Isabel?  to Isabel. 
I'm as sound as a Roach, girl, and I can play at leapfrog now as well as I could at twenty.  Flo. 
Say you so? me thinks than you grow very oddly; you grow contrary to the Course of Nature, all the rest of the World when Age approacheth, grow weak and feeble for want of radical moisture: to prop up Nature, but you, you say, grow strong and Vigorous with your age.  Mar. 
Prop up Nature didst thou say child? my Nature needs no proping up, I thank my Stars▪ besides, the very sight of thee is enough to prop up my Nature. Let me feel thy Pulse, let me feel thy Pulse. Oh thou'rt a little twinkling Rogue.  Claps her on the Cheek. Flor. 
You are pleasant, Senior.  Mar. 
How can I be otherwise? I am come a wooing to you, you little Rogue you, will you deny me? Do but see; I can Leap, and Skip, and Trip and Hop, and Dance, and Prance as nimbly as any Grasshopper.  
Tell me d'ye like me or no?  Flor. 
Bless me, what's here, a living Autumn? Nothing but withered Follies? Truly, your comely grey Hairs, together with the obliging Humour and Carriage you have to please our Sex with, can do no other than raise in me, and every one, a Reverend Respect for you.  Mar. 
But I mean, how d'ye like me for a Husband?  Flor. 
Why, d'ye speak in earnest Senior?  Mar. 
Yes, by'r Lady do I Girl.  Flor. 
Then I like you as well as Youth can do brisk comely Age, when it shall have the Joyful Diversion to play with Silver Hairs, and to refresh itself in Beds of Snow, when overheated with the Summer's warmth: in fine, I like you well enough, but the Will of my Parents is a Law to me, cut of that Track of Obedience, I must not wander.  Mar. 
Come then if you please, I'll go with you to your Father presently. Oh I could so— but 'tis no matter now, come, come let's go, let's go.  Flor. 
What tho to sleepy drowsy Age I'm sold, Since those Defects are filled with Charms of Gold.  Exeunt.  

Scene a Cloister.  Enter Father Turbin and Father Lupin. Tur. 
Truly brother I do intent to treasure up some thing by this Holy cheat.  Lup. 
In truth Brother you do very wisely, we must be every one for ourselves, for all the Church is our Mother. But indeed have you been at Jerusalem or no?  Tur. 
No more than thou hast been in purgatory.  Lup. 
Then the Relics that you brought over and have showed to his Holiness are even of your own mareing and contriveing; and was there ever such a Saint as Saint Allivergot?  Tur. 
Of my own making! why you seem to be very ignorant, thou fool thou, why all the miracles that are booked upon with such Reverence and Devotion by our Proselytes in the Golden Legend, are mere sham's and Inventions: ●o are all those that have been broached ever since the Donation of Constantine to the Pope: And in that there is a Juggle too, for that was the first Plot the Devil and our holy Church invented to make the Papal Chair great and durable.  
I don't know that ever there was such a Saint; but that's all one, I hope my arrival is not divulged yet, is it?  Lup. 
No, no body knows that you are come yet. But prithee if thou hast not been at Jerusalem where hast thou been then?  Tur. 
I have been at three other Holy places, and one damnable, wicked Heretical place I have been to visit our Lady of the Rosario, our Lady Del Carmine and our Lady del Popolo: And I have been among the plagnyest Heretics this day in Christendom, I have been in England.  Lup. 
Oh Wonderful! pray how goes our holy design there forward?  Tur. 
Forward man! Why the Heriticks have almost broke it all to pieces, and they have made nothing of Cutting off the Champions of our Church, pray heaven they don't make his Holiness reel in his Chair, and then we are safe enough.  Lup. 
Have you acquainted his Holiness with any particulars?  Tur. 
Not one word yet, I intent to do it. But I can't forbear telling you a passage, that happened between an heretic and I at Tavern in London with some other Company. I was telling him Brother, what wonderful miracles were wrought by my Saint Allivergot. and how he was martyred for the truth: I told him too, how Saint Denis, after he was beheaded did most miraculously walk three miles with his head in his hand, and then let it fall: upon which ground I told him was built a Town that bears his name, three miles distant from Paris.  Lup. 
Well what said the Heretic to these wonders of our Church?  Tur. 
Why he was ready to choke himself with laughing; Pish said he (at last when he could speak) these miracles were wrought a great many years ago: but for all their scarcity I can tell you of one in our age, and an English true one; and you know, said he, miracles are not usual among Heretics. There was a gentleman, said he, was of good quality, who being troubled with a deep melancholy, went into a place called Somerset house, there strangled himself to death: after he was dead he takes a walk near three miles, a walk almost as long as your Saint Denis' and there he runs himself through with his own rapier, and killed himself again for spite.  Lup. 
Mum, not a word more of this, as the learned observes: Sure this Heretic told an Impudent lie:  Tur. 
No for the rest of the Company confirmed what he said: But come I must get you to help me to put things in a readiness against I dazzle the people's eyes with the Lustre of my Relics.  
Thus we the giddy world pretend to guide  
While in our sleeves its weakness we deride.  
And thus what with devotion we expose.  
Is but to lead the Vulgar by the nose.  Exeunt  

Scene a Garden.  Enter Florimell Marforo and Isabel. Mar. 
Come we have done the work now my Duck, my Love, my Chuck, my Lamb, my Honey, my Dear, my— prithee one kiss now you little Rogue you, so— Dad I am Mighty— Mighty— But Come prithee my Dove we want nothing now but going to the Priest, let's hasten away then.  Flor. 
I must be guided by the Golden Rule of your Wisdom now Sir,  

Let me look upon his Head a little,  
Oh ho! He'll become Horns very well. Aside.   Mar. 
Come then, dad I'm all mirth, I'm all mirth.  
Let's guide our eager steps than let us fly,  
That I the sooner Loves soft charms may try,   
The End of the First Act   

Act The Second  
Scene the Vatican at Rome, where is discovered the Pope Seated in his Throne, a Cardinal in his Scarlets, on the on side of him, and a Bishop with his Mitre & Surpice on the other, with ol● Cost the Jesuit in a Black a Robe a Circingle about his middle, a little Collar Band about his neck in little short black hair, with Guards and other Attendants. Pope. 
To me are all men subject I to none,  
I am Divine tho moulded into flesh:  
I'm heavens deputy, to me Kings bow,  
Emperors implore my favour, and the world  
I save, or damn according as I please.  
They that to heaven will climb, must ask me leave:  
Without my keys no Entrance can be had:  
Monarches may thank me if I am so kind  
To let'em keep those kingdoms they possess;  
And think that I advance their fame if I  
Give'm the Title of my servile Page.  
To me alone the world obedience owes  
All those the honour have to be my slaves  
That Adoration to my footstool pay;  
Had I my Will I would be greater yet  
And far exceed the holy crowd of heaven  
In lieu that I to heaven worship pay  
I would make heaven pay it back to me.  Ies. 
Most holy father your great power we own,  
And tremble when we think what you can do.  
Your Godlike power over all extends:  
A temporal too, as due you likewise claim  
Which though you have it not as yet entire;  
Yet is your Empire and Dominions great  
Three hundred miles the Church's state extends  
Within the limits of fair Italy.  
Spoletoes Duchy to is your Just due;  
So's Benevent, a fair Town in Naples  
To Naples kingdom too you lay a claim;  
But rather than your Champion you'll offend  
The Spaniard, who your cause so long hath fought,  
You only once a year as due receive  
A white Mule with a purse about his neck,  
Filled up with Golden Pistols; and to show,  
What they to heavens mighty Vicar ow.  Pope. 
The Spaniards e'er were Zealous in our Cause,  
And are true Sons of their indulgent Mother.  Jes. 
Sicily, Urbin, Parma, Masseran,  
With Norway, should pay Homage to your Throne.  
England and Ireland too, you long have claimed,  
 since Pandulpho in that Land arrived,  
And came as Legate when King John did lay  
Th' Imperial Crown as due beneath his Feet.  Pope. 
My Spirtu'l Power too, them Kingdoms claim;  
But name that Cursed, stiffnecked Land no more;  
I'm out of Breath with pouring Curses on't.  
'Tis that damned Land that mortifies me thus,  
And turns my Glories into dirt and dregs.  
The Saints I've there are few, but full of Zeal;  
They'll leave no stone unturned to make us great:  
They'll Plot, Destroy, and Towns to Ashes turn;  
Try to kill Kings, then piously deny it,  
And damn their weak Souls with their latest Breath,  
With hopes of being Sainted after Death.  Jes. 
'Tis so, but then the Heretics rejoice,  
And say there's none but Libertines and Fools  
That live and die such mighty Champions,  
To People Hell, to please proud Rome and you.  Pope. 
Is then my Godlike Power thus debased  
By sullen Heretics, the World's foul Scums?  
Shall I, whose Breath can darken humane Fate,  
Be thus the Scorn of every saucy worm?  
Angels and Saints are pretty things that please  
The wiser sort of Fools that pray to Heaven;  
But it is fitting for the Churches good  
And honour too, my only Mark and Aim;  
That first they Pray to me and then to Heaven.  
'Tis I that Heaven must thank for all its Saints:  
I make 'em here, and they receive 'em there,  
So the pre-eminence is due to me,  
And Heaven shall worshipped be at second hand.  
But for the Heretics i'th' British Isle,  
I'll make 'em know that I at last have power,  
To Crush 'em with these circled Arms to Air.  Jes. 
But they are obstinate, and won't be Crushed.  Pope. 
Then will I damn and blast 'em with my Breath.  
But is your Skill yet ready to perform  
What my Commands so lately did enjoin?  
Will not those Airy Being's yet appear?  
Sure they grow bold and know not who commands.  Jes. 
Most Holy Father, yes they shall appear,  
And tell you what is done beyond the Moon.  
The work is great, and asketh longer time;  
The mighty Charm is yet not half wound up.  
Besides, they have a tedious way to come  
Through Regions, Foggy, Moist, Dry, Warm and Cold.  Pope. 
How many shall there from the Shades ascend?  Jes. 
My Necromantic Power shall bring up.  
Just four, to answer what your Will commands.  Pope. 
Then we will wait till the Charm be complete,  
Let Diligence the while your Duty show.  
But now let's to the Chapel guide our way,  
That we a Debt may to Devotion pay. Exeunt   

Scene a Chamb●●.  Enter Florimell and Isabel. Flor. 
Did not I tell thee Isabel, what I should endure by marrying this old Cuff? to be penned up thus all day like a mouse in a Trap, to suffer penance thus by an old Clumpish, Feeble Jealous coxcomb, And I must be enjoined fasting forsooth; and to mortify the pride of the flesh as he pretends; here he hath left me Beads, Crucifixes, Prayer-books, and a lusty Cord to scourge myself with, where as I think he ought to undergo the Penance of being well scourged himself for his own insufficiency: and oh that I were to inflict it on him myself, I'd make him skip after another manner than he did when he Courted me; and then all the Comfort I have is but looking out of that window upon the Cloisters.  Isa. 
I did not expect it would have been altogether so bad neither, but now you must have patience till the rotten, fleshy building is fallen.  Flor. 
I believe his Jealousy will scarce leave him when he's dead.  Isa. 
You would Joyfully know the Contrary were it so, but he's too old to stay in the world much longer; I wonder what business he hath in it at all, at his years.  Flor. 
His only business now is to torment me, but I warrant you, I'll Conquer him, and engraft the Trophies of my Victory on his head too.  
How d'y like the Friar that's made so famous by his Relics; he saith his Holiness hath caused them to be newly Registered in the Roman Calendar.  Isa. 
I like him very well, for he is looked upon as a mighty upright, holy man, I believe he'll be Cannonized for a Saint at his Death: and when he walks the streets how the people flock about to receive his Blessing and kiss the hem of his Garment?  Flor. 
He's but young, it's much he should be so much admired; it's asign my husband was extremely pleased with him, or else he would ne'er have had me to Church to hear him preach.  Isa. 
His Relics have a strange power they say: for 'tis reported they'll make women breed without the help of their husbands, turn old age into youth, heal Diseases and increase Love.  Flor. 
Oh strange! I'm glad my husband hath ordered him to come and Confess me, for I have a good opinion of him, my meaning is I respect him above other Men; he was very obliging to me too, for when he went out of the Church, he saluted me from all the rest of the Ladies.  Isa. 
Nay then, I believe he gins to know that you deserve some respect from him too; And all the time he was preaching I took notice his eye was for the most part steadfastly fixed upon you.  Flor. 
If this should increase now to a Flame?  Isa. 
It would be but an holy flame at most.  Flor. 
For my part I believe the worst of his Actions are pure and holy.  Isa. 
Ay, ay, so they are; don't holy mother Church tell us we must believe what the Church believes: besides, if the sins of the Flesh do corrupt us his Absolution cleanseth us again, even as Fire purifies Air.  Flor: 
You are in the Right.  Isa. 
I'm sure I am in the Right when I follow the pious rules, of the Church, which give us, maxims to sin, and sanctifies'um when 've done. I vow I begin to have as good an opinion of father Lupin as you have of father Turbin.  Flor. 
Sayest thou so girl? Nay then I have a Plot in my head in which I hope Saint Venus will assist me. If she doth, my dry boned bed fellow shall be preferred to his due deserts.  Isa. 
Truly with a cold Icy withered body he hath a grave dull Politic head fit for a Satyr's ornament.  Flor. 
Faith girl my good Nature will make me be so kind to him at last. ha', ha', ha'.  Enter Marforio. Mar. 
What, laughing? is this the mortification of the flesh? is this deying the devil and all his works? out ye daughter of Satan!  
But there is some thing more than ordinary in the wind I'm a afraid: I believe the sneeringsluts laughed at me— Aside.  
Go get you gone into your Closet that's fit for you than to sit and sneer and mock.  Flor. 
Why husband can't we be cheerful and devout too.  Mar. 
Not a word, make haste in and follow me.  Exit Marforio Flor. 
Damned may she be, nay doubly damned that first  
For Interest wedded Age, may she be Cursed  
With all the Plagues a woman's Rage can vent,  
And when we Curse, I'm sure they are well meant.  
May she be lewd t'excess, proud and yet poor,  
May none supply her lust when she'd turn whore.  
Then may she pine to death at her ill luck,  
Because youth won't and Age her cannot— you know what  Exeunt Florimell and Isabel. Marforio Reenters. Mar. 
Apyes take it I don't know what I ail, but I'm horribly tormented in my mind, I cannot be at quiet in the day time, neither can I sleep in the night, for thinking and dreaming of horns, yet I keep her safe enough, there's no body comes near her, And endeavour to mortify her with Devotion, that the members of her body, may not rise up in rebellion against me their Chief head and Governor, but still for all this 'tis Horns, horns, horns, that won't let me alone. And horns are such things that the very thoughts of 'em do half kill me.  
For tho' they grace the brows that they adorn,  
Still they are pointed at by all with Scorn.  Exit Morforio.  

Scene a Cloister  Enter Father Turbin and Father Lupin. Tur. 
Now my fame gins to spread, now do the common People begin to worship me, and cry me up for holy; and therefore now I begin to fill my coffers and thrive.  Lup. 
His Holiness encourageth the Cheat too I find.  Tur. 
What will not his Holiness do for Lucre to advance the Interest of the Church; he shall cause Kings to be deposed and murdered, Heretics to be destroyed with the severest Torments; in fine, he shall set all the world together by the ears provided he may make but a pious gain, for himself and his hopeful Nephews.  Lup. 
Indeed! are they so kind to their Nephews?  Tur. 
I find you are but a Novice in our Church, or else experience would have made you wiser: our most Holy father's fancy they give Kings one half of Heaven (for you must know that's at their disposing) and another half of Earth when they stile'um their Sons: and the Kings that are true to our cause think they merit the other half of Heaven in most humbly styling them Father.  Lup. 
Say you so? me thinks these are very pious things, and tend much to mutual Love and Unity.  Tur. 
You are mistaken there Lupin, theres''s ' more of Policy than Religion in it, as indeed there is in all our principles. Know then that this only serves to enslave Princes to the Grandeur and Loftiness of Heavens most humble Vicar.  Lup. 
But I wonder that Princes who have commonly wise Counsellors to advise with, should be thus led by the Nose. And I wonder to at another thing, that the Pope should bear a more entire affection to his Nephews then to his Sons the Kings; for my part I should reckon my Children both nearer and dearer to me than my Nephews.  Tur. 
Our Popes are governed by contrary Maxims, for what ever they scrape together from the church when they die they they leave to their Nephews as their heirs; not affording so much as a small legacy to their Sons; Witness Pope Vrban the Eighth, Innocent the tenth, and Alexander the seventh; who left above seven Hundred Thousand pistols to his Nephews and only the Title of Son to the poor Emperor who had all his life time been at great charge and trouble in defending him against the Infidels.  Lup, 
Some People would take this for Ingratitude; but for my part I think Kings and Emperors should believe themselves Rich enough, and Highly Honoured in enjoying only the Title of his Sons, without expection of any thing else.  Tur. 
You speak like a True soldier of his Holiness, I commend you. It's a main point of our Religion to procure Riches to the Church, no matter how nor which way: t'other day one comes to me to be absolved for defiling himself with a goat; I had four Pistols for giving him Absolution: And for one more I would have undertaken to procure a dispensation from his Holiness for him to marry the beast.  Lup. 
Nay I know the Pope hath power: But now let us wave this discourse till another time.  Tur. 
Ay, ay, let's wave it, let's wave it, I have business of greater concernment in my head; I long to go to Confess Madam Florimell, the time seems tedious.  Lup. 
Just so it always seems to eager lovers; 'Tis but waiting till the morrow, and by'r Lady I must with you too, for I have a loving desire to be father Confessor to— It's not matter whether I tell you or no.  Tur. 
You need not keep it so close you mean to Isabel; come, come, than we are well enough.  
And that our desires in pleasure may end  
Let's make our Religion our Plottings befriend.   
The End of The Second Act.   

Act the Third.  

Scene a Chamber.  Where are discovered Marforio, Florimell, Isabel, Father Turbin, and Father Lupin. Mar. 
I Know Father Turbin you are a Man for a Religious Life, without Spot or Blemish; and that as you are jogging on towards Heaven with a zealous pace, so you will not think your Pains much, to direct others the same Road: here is my Wife wants some of your holy Instructions whereby she may build a Groundwork by her Edification, to be throughly versed in the Art of Mortification: I would have you make her Religious and Virtuous, and Holy, and Prudent, and Wise, and Humble, and Meek, and Obedient, that she may mind the Commands of me her Lord and Husband, and not the Kickshaw Vanities of the Flesh.  Tur. 
Heaven doth seem to have moulded our Daughter here, on purpose for Edification Sir; and therefore I don't question but to find her endued with a Religious and Spiritual Sanctity, and what blessing Heaven hath bestowed on me, she shall enjoy herself. I don't doubt but a little private discourse with her may work a soft and gentle impression in her.  
Therefore pray Sir do you stand at a distance, To Marforio  
Daughter I must give you the trouble to kneel.  She knelt and kisseth the hem of his Garment Flor. 
O pious, most Holy man!  
Sir I have obeyed your Commands.  Tur. 
Daughter we have a saying in Philosophy, that Nature made nothing in vain; all things were made for some use, & if we follow not the Law of Nature when she presseth us to be guided by her rules, we sin both against her and Heaven; for there she received Being, and here it is our duty to Cherish her. Beauty the most excellent thing that ever Nature framed; Beauty that gives life to the Heavens as well as the Earth, shall she continue among us to be only poorly admired at a distance, as some Nations do the Sun? no, she was made for Love, Love, without which the most illustrious beauties would shine but meanly, neither could they raise Trophies to illustrate their worth: can you hear the name of Love daughter pronounced by me without a frown?  Flor. 
Yes Sir I am not so barbarous yet to find any thing in that name so terrible.  Tur. 
And can your tender breast receive that soft impression d'ye think? I speak in a Religious way, for I would by no means have you offend Heaven.  Marforio. Mar. 
Well I'll leave you together; pray father Turbin, bring down the Pride of her Flesh a little. Exit Mar.  Tur. 
I warrant you Senior; leave that to me. Come Daughter, indeed I cannot see you Kneel any longer.  Raiseth her up. Flor. 
Father I am generally good natured; and I know not but I may be capable enough of receiving the holy Flame,  Tur. 
Well Daughter, you speak like a Saint: if there were not a great deal of Religion in Love, I would not entertain you with this Discourse: But, to go farther can you settle an harmless, innocent Love upon me, and think no more on Age, and Impotence? Beauty, as I said, before, was not made for nothing, much less for insufficient Age, but for the Embraces of Love and Youth. Do not Sin then Daughter thus, against our Handmaid Nature; employ your blooming Youth to advantage, before Age shall whither those beauteous Features & fill those Veins with Ice, in lieu of Blood. Consider the Religious Advice I give you; here is a Breast filled with a Love as warm as the Sunbeams in summer, take it and use it as your own.  Flor. 
You make me Blush, and I'm overcome; for I vow I can deny you nothing, you are such a pious Man: but I'm considering what measures we must use: you know my old Husband is very Jealous of me, therefore we must go prudently to work; stay— I think I have almost found out a way whereby we may taste the Pleasures of Love without interruption: I'll pretend, very shortly, to fall sick, and then do you leave the rest to me.  Tur. 
I vow Daughter thou art one of a thousand, thou art a good Heavenly woman: Come, one Kiss the holiness of my Coat claims from you; the Piety of my Order requires another, and the third is due to Love. Kisseth her three times.  They whisper. Lupin. 
You see Isabel what a sweet and pleasant Concordance there is with Religion and Love, Love which is the Life of Religion; nay the Soul of every individu a thing else; can you swallow this part of our Doctrine? Come I know as thou art a good Christian, thou dost understand the Theory, which if you do, the Practic part will follow of Consequence.  Isa. 
Ay, but you name a dangerous sort of Love; a Love full of Sin.  Lup. 
Believe me Isabel there can be no sin in the Divine thing called Love, the most unsensible things in Nature are subject to that Excellent, and I may say, Religious passion. Doth not the Sun Court his Mistress the Earth with his Glorious smiles, and the Earth again display her content, by her Checker-work and embroidery in her Summer pride? Doth not the Sun again, with the rest of his Glorious Train move continually round for Love of perfection? Nothing without some feeling of Love▪ Doth not the stone move eagerly to his Centre fire upwards? And do not the sportling streams in many pretty Meanders glide to the Sea? can these inanimate Being's be inclinable to that Noble passion, and you whom Heaven hath endued with sense and reason be without that very Sense and Reason Heaven hath bestowed on you purposely to know how to Love.  Isa. 
You plead too well Father Lupin to be denied, and since it is an harmless passion, I believe I can digest it: But who is it you would have me Love?  Lup. 
Myself that Love you more than our strongest Zealots do heaven. And to Confirm this holy Flame, permit me to seal the Contract on those bloomy rosy leaves your Love-Enchanting Lips. kisseth her often-  Isa. 
Oh I shall die, come no more that's enough for once.  Lup. 
Thus will I take my Brother Turbin's measures.  Isa. 
And I will follow my Lady Florimels'.  Lup. 
Do so, and let Love prosper us.  Tur. 
Alas 'tis time to part, Farewell and now,  
Let's not forget what we to Love did ow.  
Another meeting shall our Joy renew,  
And pay that Debt which to our flame is due.  Exeunt Father Tur. & Father Lup. ●…man●nt Florimell and Isabel. Flor. 
So— Now since I have begin to set my engineering brains to work, I'm resolved to bring my plotings to perfection: and when all, comes to all, 'tis but to pay a debt, my Husband's age and humour claims. I like the Friar well enough; he'll serve my Turn— But let me see— when would you advise me to fall sick Isabel? for Indeed I must be sick, and very sick too, or else I shall have no opportunity to accomplish my design; besides there's no better way to blind my Husband's eyes and to keep neighbours from having an ill Opinion of me.  Isa. 
My Master you know was talking of going out of Town to morrow, or next day: I think it would be necessary for you to fall sick a little before he goes.  Flor. 
You give good Advice, I'll follow it.  
Let's then retire, and hasten to prepare,  
Each thing in Order, for Love's gentle War.   

Scene changeth to a Closter.  Enter Father Turbin, and Father Lupin. Tur. 
How d'ye like our Love Intrigue; now is not this better than to say Mass for the deliverance of five thousand Souls out of Purgatory?  Lup. 
It goes forward as we could wish; under the happy Mask of Religion and Zeal; and the Truth on't is, there's no design whatsoever, though, contrived by the very Prince of Hell himself but may find entertainment, as well in the meanest Cloister as at the Vatican in our Holy City of Rome here.  Tur. 
You speak like an understanding Man, I could not think you had gained so much experience for the small time you have been in Orders; but to confirm what you say, I'll tell you of a passage wherein I was the chief Actor: It is a Love-Intrigue too; It was in the City of Ricanati, not far from our Lady of Lorettoes' Chapel, where I lived when I went in Pilgrimage thither: and I was looked upon (as I am here) to be a very Religious Man.  Lup. 
Was this in your pretended Return from Jerusalem with the supposed Relics?  Tur. 
Even so, for I happened to be Father-Confessor to a Lady there, who notwithstanding the violent endeavours of her Husband to the contrary, proved Barren: they were both equally desirous of Children, which made her Husband request her to have recourse to my Prayers: she, in the mean time, with my blessed Assistance used all natural means to obtain this Grace: in short, after two years' Prayers with her in private, evident signs of a great Belly appeared; at which I and the Lady seemed mightily to rejoice, possessing the good Husband that it proceeded from a Vow his Wife had made to Saint Gaeten, upon which the good man caused a Statue of Silver to be founded, for his Wife to offer to this Saint: and I pleasantly made 'em kneel before the Altar of the Saint, while I gave 'em my Blessing; the rest of the Monks standing at that instant; most Religiously jocund at the Devotion.  Lup. 
This was certainly your Masterpiece. But your speaking of our Lady of Loretto's Chapel makes me desire to understand how it came to be so often removed, that I may know how this Story is contrived that hath shamed so many people: for though I am in Orders, I could never yet learn the story right.  Tur. 
Know then that this was our Lady's habitation in the city of Nazareth; and in the time of Pope Nicholas, the fourth it happened to be Miraculously loosened from the foundation and carried away in the Night (by a company of Angels) as far as Sclavonia, to a place called Tersalto; adjoining to the Adriatic Sea; which was a removal of more than four thousand miles, at the arrival whereof the Inhabitants, in the morning were wonderfully surprised.  Lup. 
And in my mind they had a great deal of Reason; for doubtless none but Devils or better Being's could be capable of acting such a Prodigy.  Tur. 
This house however continued there not long; for the Angels were willing to play the porters once more; so hoisting it on their shoulders again, away through the air they trudge with it as far as a place called Ricanati, where they planted it in a wood adjoining to the Sea: and because it may be the sooner believed we pretend to tell you the day of the month and year that this second removal happened in which we say to be the tenth of December one thousand two hundred ninety four. And tho' the wood was very dark, the Virtue of this Chapel spread a light all over it, brighter than the Sun in Summer, when no clouds casts shadows from the middle Region.  Lup. 
I know the fame of this Miraculous house is spread all over the world, and the story of it hath gained a considerable belief in most People.  Tur. 
You speak right, but this was not all; for the Inhabitants of the place having there Christened this house and given it the name it now bears; the Angels, for a very good reason thought fit not to let it remain there any longer, because that place being the retreat of a great many thiefs and murderers that did abuse and molest pilgrims that came thither, they gave it a third removal to the top of a little hill, the ground were of was divided between two brothers, as their Inheritance, who quarrelling one day for who should enjoy the profit of this house, the night following it was carried by the same Angels out of their possession, and planted it in the great Road that goes to the City of Ricanati, where it still is, frequented with as much Zeal as Mahomet's Tomb at Mecha, and works more miracles than any other of our Lady's chapels in the world.  Lup. 
I Honour his memory that first made this miracle, there's no question but it hath been almost as beneficial to our Clergy as the invention of purgatory, and praying for the dead.  Tur. 
I'm afraid I have been too tedious in telling you this story. But come let's not talk now of that, nor praying for the dead; I am for thinking on the living Florimell, my Lady Saint.  Lup. 
And Isabel mine.  Tur. 
To keep out care, and dull thoughts to remove  
Let's gaze upon beauty with eyes full of Love.  Exeunt ambo.  

The Scene changed to a Chamber;  Where is discovered Florimell, in a Night-Dress, as newly risen from Bed with Isabel, two women, and Marforio. Flor. 
Alas it is a strange distemper, I am almost sick to death; I am Sensible of the smart in every Vein.  Mar. 
Nay good Dear wife, oh law! I would not lose my precious Duck, for the world.  Isa. 
Nay Sir I fear it the more because all the Arts the Doctors have used cannot discover what the distemper is.  Mar. 
Nay good Neighbours what shall we do? alas my poor Chick. Nay I beseeeh you Neighbours, is there no remedy? how dost thou do my Dear Spouse?  Flor. 
I am well enough to receive the cold impression of a death that will prove unwelcome to me because I must part from thee; I must go to bed again I fear, but pray Heaven I may rise once again to enjoy thy company.  Mar. 
Oh my poor wife, my poor wife! Neighbours what shall I do what shall I do?  1 Wo. 
Truly Neighbour if you would take our advice I believe the only way to save her life will be to Implore the assistance of Saint Allivergot.  2 Wo. 
Indeed Neighbour I'm of your mind, for nothing can cure her now without a miracle, and to have recourse to that Saints Relics is the best means I think: for with the help of Heaven, and that holy man father Turbin they have done a wonderful many good things.  Flor. 
Ah thou blessed Saint, St. Allivergot have pity on me or I am undone.  1 Wo. 
Did not I tell you so, pray Neighbour cause father Turbin to come and bring his Relics with him.  Mar. 
Isabel, go run, make haste, quickly, lose no time tell him my wife's dead and hath sent for him to be cured by the help of those Holy Relics, go be gone I say.  Exit Isabel, 1 Wo. 
Come Neighbour Florimell the power of this Holy man's Relics are great, and I dare secure your health under the virtue of them.  Mar. 
Sayest thou so Neighbour? dad you have very much revived my heart, dad you have Neighbour, for I would not have my none Pigs eyes die here, for the Pope's Revenue, how dost thou do Chick, hum?  Flor- 
Truly my Dear not well.  Mar. 
Have patience my Duck and thou shalt receive ease presently.  Enter Isabel, Father Turbin and Father Lupin, with a little Box wherein the relics are supposed to be enclosed; when they Enter the Box is set on a Table, they all fall upon their knees to it, and Father Turbin Crosseth himself, and Blesseth them by moving his hand. All, 
Your Blessing good Father.  1 Wo. 
Oh ti's a pious man.  2 Wo. 
'Tis a man of a most devout life and conversation.  Father Turbin approacheth Florimell Tur. 
Have you a firm and steadfast belief daughter in the relics of this good Saint?  Flor. 
Alas Father you need not have put that question to me since I am sensible I cannot be cured but by their help, and methinks from the first moment of your arrival here, I have al-ready found a Cheerful alteration in me, which none but your Holy presence could have caused.  Tur. 
Well Dear daughter I find the strength of your faith hath effected this: how ever it will be necessary to begin, by confession, to the end that the soul being purged the body may the sooner obtain its pristine health.  2 Wo. 
You say well Father, therefore if my advice may be taken we should leave 'em together, that he may with the greater wisdom dispose of her conscience.  1 Wo. 
My Neighbour here is in the Right, what say you signior Marforio?  Mar. 
Ay so she is, therefore let's disturb' 'em as little as we can, and be gone, my Dear, my sweet, my Choice, my precious Sugar-candy, far well for a day or two, because business calls me into the Country, at my return I hope to find thee as pert as ever thou wert.  Flor, 
Farewell my Love.  Mar. 
But hark you Father Turbin, pray be as careful of disposing her Conscience, as of restoring her health; d'ye mind me? for that I love to take considerable care of too, my Chick once more adieu.  Flor 
Adieu my Dear.  Both Wo. 
Well Father, we recommend her to your prayers, and the virtue of those Blessed Relics, Neighbour Adieu. Exeunt Mar. and the two women manent Turb. Lup. Flor. and Isabel.  Tur. 
Now let me feed on the Heavenly, moisture of thy breath, and gather Roses from the Gardens of thy Cheeks: Now that Religion hath played her part let Love, gentle Love, display his soft ravishing treasures to Eager and Intranced Lovers: Now let him revel and furfit as with pleasures: No time so fit as when Lovers private are; let's not advantage lose, nor suffer beauty to be vainly wasted; let's Closely retire to partake of truer pleasures than the guilded flowery spring produceth.  Flor. 
Shames treacherous livery in my face appears,  Tur. 
Let nothing cause your blushes nor your fears.  
Nought here can tell what that kind blush did mean,  
So now we may blush sport, and toy unseen.  Exit Tur. and Flor. Lup. 
Now Daughter let us (not to lose our pleasures) to Isabel  
Fellow my Brothers and your Mistress Measure.  
Let us then eagerly our Footsteps move,  
To undisturbed Bowers of Flow'ry Love.  Exeunt Lup. and Isabel.  
The end of the third Act.   

ACT IU.  

SCENE a Garden.  Enter Father Turbin and Florrinel. Tur. 
HArk! methinks Love commands us once more to close retirement, where we may again die in the Fields of Love and Beauty, where silent shades shall hid thy blushes, and pleasure dissolve thy fears.  Flor. 
'Tis Love must bear the blame, not I, where he prevails, resistance is in vain; when he commands I must submit, to pant under those sweet and bitter pangs he gives me, till I die both with delight and pain.  Tur. 
Let me conduct thee then where Love shall complete your wishes and heighten our Bliss, let us every day during your Doctor's absence pay what we own to Love: And while we are preparing to engage in Love's fierce harmless Lists, as a seasoning to our Joys, I have ordered one of our Chapel Eunuches to sing a Song which Love Inspired me to write.  
Let Love the while direct our sense to try  
Once more the pleasures of his Victory.  Exeunt hand in hand; then a Tune first played over on a Recorder, than a voice joins with it and sings the ensuing Song behind the Scene. 

SONG.  

1.  
SInce love, youth, and beauty have raised the Alarms,  
Go smother each other with lip-melting Charms,  
And make no delay, lest your hopes you deceive,  
A Moment once over, is hard to retrieve;  
Dissolve in moist Raptures, like fresh morning Dew,  
And breath Love together, as Turtle Doves Woe.   

2.  
In Love's painted Meadows go Revel and Play,  
But never  
Give over  
By Night nor by Day.  
O'er his rising Hillocks with cheerfulness move,  
And pleasantly range in the Valley's of Love,  
That Monarches may envy the joys which you find,  
Where cares are unknown, and where beauty proves kind.    The Song ended, some body knocks at the door, then enters Isabel half dressed and half undressed, as amazed, followed by Father Lupin. Isa. 
O lamentable what shall we do? We are all undone; Madam rise, rise, yonder's my Master at the door with two or three Neighbours.  Lu. 
Ay, what shall I do Isabel? What shall I do? he will certainly make an Eunuch of me.  Enter Florrinel and Father Turbin. Tur. 
Curse upon him, was this obligingly done, to disturb us thus in the midst of our Pleasures?  Flor. 
Come we have no time to talk now, Isabel, give 'em the Key of the back Door, and let 'em be gone. Adieu, adieu.  Lu. 
I'm afraid I shall not Gives Turbin the Key. fancy love so hearty as I have done, never was Mortal in such fear of losing his Manhood before, as I was now. Aside.  Exeunt the Two Friars: Flor. 
Isabella go let him in, here will I plant myself ready to receive him at his entrance: I'm sure there's no apparent reason for his suspicion hitherto, and truly the practical part of Hypocrisy is a fine smooth thing, had it not been for that commendable Virtue; my Husband had missed being one of the Dubbed Brotherhood. But here he comes.  Enter Marforio and Two Women. Mar. 
How doth my dear Duck do? I vow Chicken I could not stay from thee any longer, for the life of me, having left thee sick too; the thoughts of being from thee at such a time hath made me sob and cry my eyes out almost in the Country: but Dad I had not left thee at all, but that I had very earnest business indeed. And Cods-fish let me look upon thee a little, Dad methinks my Chicken looks much better than she did before I went; how hath she proved in my absence, Isabel?  Isa. 
Why Sir, she having put her confidence in those Holy relics; the Virtues of them were warmly applied to her every day, and have wrought (beyond our expectations) a wonderful Miracle: For she is more than half cured, and is but newly risen from paying a Devout Thanksgiving to the Blessed Saint that Cured her.  Flo. 
She speaks truth my Love, for it is to that Immortal Saint and that Pious Mortal, Father Turbin, I own my Life and Health; and your dear presence Husband hath indeed added something— of sorrow. Aside.  1 Wo. 
We seeing your Husband's Arrival at the door Neighbour, could not forbear to Visit you too; and are glad that Heaven and this Saint have been so kind to you.  2 Wo. 
Nay now Neighbour let this be the only Saint you will pray to, for the good he hath done your Wife.  Mar. 
Well! I'll give Father Turbin Three hundred Crowns to be employed for this Saints use in the Church: But well Chicken, how is it now? Doth she lie easy and warm Isabel? I must satisfy myself in that, and see what Bolsters, Pillows, rugs, Blankets and Bedding she hath, or I shall enjoy no content, come Isabel; come you along with me to her Bedside.  He looks behind the Scene, and the while Isabel runs hastily to Florrinel. Isa. 
Madam we are all undone, Father Turbin in the hurry just now hath left his Breeches on the Bed there, and my Master hath found them.  [Enter Marforio with the Breeches in his hands, he turns them about, and looks on them.] Mar. 
What, what have I got here? By'r Lady a piece of Man's Breeches: Is this your private sickly devout life, you female Devil you? Pretend to fall sick to cornute your Husband! Very Fine! Tell me whose Breeches these are, or by the Sun, Moon, and Seven Stars, I'll cut off thy Legs, and stop every Hole about thee.  Flor. 
How unlucky is this? What shall I say?— Stay, I think my brain hath found out something that may befriend me. Aside.  
Husband why do you blame me thus without cause?  Mar. 
By'r Lady the Woman grows Diabollically Impudent. Without cause, quoth she! No the finding your Gallants Breeches upon the Bed is no cause at all, nor no sign that I am a Horned Animal, bear Witness Neighbours.  Flor. 
Hear me Husband, and I will satisfy you.  Mar. 
May be she reputes, and is going to confess the truth, I'll hear her. Aside.  Flor. 
You know Husband that being almost cured with so precious a Remedy, that to fall into a relapse would put me into double danger of death, therefore by Father Turbin's advice, I have kept the most powerful part of the Sacred Relic near at hand; upon which I have offered up my Devotions every day.  
These are the very Breeches that Saint Allivergot wore, when he resided among Mortals: Therefore pray Husband consider what they are, and use 'em more gently.  Mar. 
Dad I'm almost persuaded she speaks truth. Well I'll lay 'em down upon this Chair, Lays 'em down. there they may he and cry out to the Wicked, Noli me tangere. Prithee my Duck excuse my passionate discourse just now, come one Buss and be friends— So.  Flor. 
How could you be so cruel Love, to injure my Innocence and Fidelity to thee.  Mar. 
Come my Pigsny say no more, I was to blame, indeed I was to blame; therefore prithee forgive me but this time.  Flo. 
I am easily reconciled to so loving an Husband.  Isa. 
Now will I fly to inform Father Turbin Aside. of what is past, and order him to fetch away the Holy Relic, in a solemn Procession, to put the better Gloss upon the matter.  Exit Isabel. 1. Wo. 
Indeed Neighbour you was very much overseen, in being so credulous to believe things contrary to your Wives Virtuous Inclination.  2 Wo. 
I dare swear she would neither injure Heaven, nor you, by so sinful and vile an act; she is the truest Pattern of Piety, Modesty, and Virtue, in the whole City of Rome; and I'm sure she loves her Husband as a good Wife should do.  Mar. 
Poor Creature I am sorry I should be such a Rogue tho: Come my pretty Chick one Buss more, and then we are thoroughly Friends again I hope.  Flor. 
It was but a mistake Honey, and I am ready to forgive thee all. Enter Isabel.  Mar. 
Lack a day, what a good Wife have I godt Neighbours?  2. Wo. 
Such Wives are not to be found every where▪ I promise you that; had my Husband served me, as you served her, I'd have made the House too hot to hold the Beast.  Isa. 
Yonder's Father Turbin coming in Procession with some more Friars, to fetch away the Holy Relic, I must lay it on that Table on a White Table Cloth against his Arrival.  She lays the Breeches in order; then Enters the Procession in this manner: First, One that bears a Cross, than Two Boys in White, bearing lighted Tapers in their hands, after them Four Friars or more, Two by Two; Father Turbin brings up the Rear alone, being entered, he wheels to the Front; bows Three times to the Holy Relic on the Table, the rest imitating him. Enter some Rabble, who Cross themselves and do like the rest. All Sing, 
Sancte Allivergot,  
Ora pro nobis.  After which Father Turbin approacheth the Breeches, takes 'em very Ceremoniously and with a great many Bowings to the Earth, and first brings them to Marforio. Tur. 
Here Senior, As you have received benefit by this Holy Relic, so it offers itself first to you, to afford you the Blessing of a Kiss, and by it you gain Pardons and Indulgences, a Pena & Culpa, for Fourscore thousand years.  He kisseth it on his knees. To Florinel who doth the same. Tur. 
Now it offers itself to you, dear Daughter; by it you gain a perpetual Pardon, it Absolves you from all your Sins, past, present, and to come. To the rest of these good people to whom I likewise present it, it gains 'em Pardons for Twenty years to come.  They all kiss it on their knees, then Exit the Procession, with the Breeches carried aloft on the Cross; the Rabble singing, etc. All Sing. 
In pace quiercat,  
Sancte Allivergot  
Ora pro Nobis.  1 Wo. 
Well Neighbour Adieu, I wish you all Health, Happiness, and long Life.  2. Wo. 
I wish the same to you both.  Exeunt the Two Women. Flor. 
Well Honey I'll retire into my Closet to my Devotion.  Mar. 
Thou may'st do thy pleasure my Precious.  Flor. 
I must omit no opportunity of paying a Thanksgiving to this Blessed Saint: Come you along with me Isabel.  Exeunt Flor. and Isab. Manet Marforio. Mar. 
Dad for all my Wife is such a Virtuous Woman, I can't forbear being jealous yet, she's handome, and young, and skittish, and wanton, and witty, and good natured, to all which an Old Man being Married are evident sign that he is, or must be a Cuckold; did I once know the truth of it, I were out of my pain: But they say, There are some sorts of Airs strong enough to breed Cuckolds in, and this Roman Air is none of the best, for all it is under the Pope's Nose: Therefore I will prudently watch her hits, in order to which I caused another Key to be privately made to my door, and I think to give out suddenly that I intent to go out of Town, though I design the contrary.  
Then I shall know if I have cause to be  
Troubled with this uneasy Jealousy.  Exit Marforio.  

The SCENE changeth to a Cloister.  Enter Father Turbin and Father Lupin. Tur. 
The noise of my Religious Life and Coat,  
Was falling from the easy crowds belief.  
When Florimell the Witty and the Fair,  
Supported still my tottering State and Fame.  Lup. 
The Shame past unsuspected.  Tur. 
— Nay she must  
Doubtless her Pedigree from Angels fetch,  
Her thoughts move in a far more Glorious Sphere,  
Then like those shut in this Course Globe of Clay:  
This worthy Object still I'll entertain,  
And ever keep her in my Breast confined,  
I'll be her Prisoner and she shall be mine,  
And we'll each other tie with Chains of Love,  
Ne'er to be loosened but by envious Death.  
I must once more prepare with eager heat  
To meet my Love's close, soft, dear, sweet Embrace,  
And from her Lips I'll steal a Cherry Kiss.  
Then gently die upon her Snowy Breasts.  Lup. 
The last bout I'll tell you though would have spoiled  
The good Opinion I had of the Brat.  
I thought I should dislike his Bow and Dart.  
I like no sour sauce with Love's sweet Viands.  Tur. 
For Love's sweet sake you all things should endure.  Lup. 
Not I, unless he'd let me sport secure.  Tur. 
At present let's not more of Love discourse;  
Our Actions shall do more than all our words.  
What is the News at Court now? How's the Pope?  Lu. 
He swells and frets at an immoderate rate,  
That he can't play his Game in Christendom.  
And that which aggravates him much the more,  
Is one that asketh Counsel from the Stars;  
Who hath declared their Influences frown  
Upon the ●●●e and all the Roman State:  
That time draws nigh his Holiness must fall,  
When he and his shall poorly be forgot,  
And none shall more upon his Throne Ascend.  Tur. 
Then all our Holy Cheats will help no more.  
But who is this great Student of the Stars?  Lup. 
A Stranger, who hath had his just Reward,  
For he is in the Inquisition shut.  Tur. 
Nay then his Holiness disliked the News.  
I fear his Grandeur in the dust will lie,  
When he who proudly did the World despise,  
Shall be more scorned then e'er he Princes did.  
I mourn our Fate should thus be chained to his.  
Innocent the Third first raised the Roman Throne  
On Steps above the State of Temporal Crowns.  
By his Decree he could Correction give  
To all the Christian Princes in the World.  Lup. 
This very Power the Popes still proudly own.  Tur. 
Nay more, no Emperor could then be owned  
 he had paid Obedience first to him.  Lup. 
Nay then 'twas time for Princes to beware,  
Tho this great power was no more than Air.  
'Tis like the humour o'th' Tartarian Cham,  
Who having Dined, commands by Trumpet sound  
A Proclamation to be issued forth  
That other Princes now have leave to Dine.  
But Ha! Who's here?  Enter Isabel. Isa. 
One glad to see you both, if you will once more be lulled a sleep with Love's soft gentle Charms, if you will once more die, To Turbin. and dying be delighted with so sweet a Death; follow me. The Old Dotard is gone out of Town again, and by my Lady's order I am come to fetch you to her, the last storm is quite blown over now.  Tur. 
Come let's this precious time not spend in waste,  
But winged with Love let us move on with haste.  Exeunt.  

The SCENE changeth to a Street.  Enter Marforio Solus. Mar. 
Now she thinks I am far enough off a dad, wherein she is mistaken: and I think I am a Cuckold, and fear I am not mistaken; however I love to pry into the Nature of things, that I may be certified in the truth of the business. I have furnished myself with a Counterfeit Key to find out her Intrigue. If she hath a Gallant, I'll cause both her and him to be put into the Inquisition. I'll take Two Neighbours with me for Witnesses, bring a Gentleman of the White Rod with me, to carry him before his Holiness.  
And e'er to morrow pass, or vanish o'er,  
I'll know if I'm a Cuckold, she a Whore.  Exit Mar.   

ACT. V.  

SCENE a Chamber.  Enter Marforio, Two Neighbours, with an Officer of the White Rod. Mar. 
SO softly Neighbours, let's not walk too fast, for fear of giving them notice; so, I'll peep into her Chamber, and if there be Peeps behind the Scene. occasion I'll call you. Oh Horrible! Monstrous!  
Come Neighbours bear Witness what an undecent posture they are in. Oh 'tis that Holy Devil Turbin that Cuckolds me thus, yonder's the other Friar a squeezing Isabel too: I can't endure this, my House is a rank Bawdy-house, and I the principal Ornament of the Family.  
Rush in Sir, and show the Staff of your Authority, and be sure Neighbours do you help to secure 'em, for they may kill me you know.  Enter the Gentleman of the White Rod first behind the Scene, followed by the Two Neighbours and Marforio, some squeeks are heard, then re enters on the Stage the Two Neighbours having hold of the Two Friars, Marforio holding Isabel and the Gentleman of the White Rod Florimell. Flor. 
Do but hear me Husband.  Mar. 
No, not I, I think I have caught you and your Holy Stallion napping together now: Nay you may hold down your head Father, there's never a Relic left now to fetch away in Procession: And you Mrs. Minks, that have been To Isabel. my Wife's Bawd, and your own Whore all this time, you are silent I see too.  Isa. 
Neighbours you are to bear Witness here, how my Master hath improved his quality, he is one of no mean Rank now, I'll assure you.  Mar. 
What do you jeer me? you shall have your due, you shall. Come away with 'em to his Holiness, away with 'um.  
I'll trust no more a Pious outward shape,  
That mimiks inwardly the Crafty Ape.  Exeunt. The Scene changeth to the Pope's Palace, where are discovered his Holiness, a Cardinal, and a Bishop on each side of him in their Robes, with a Jesuit, and Guards, and Attendants. Pope. 
All Princes labour to support my State,  
And 'tis their duty not to see me fall.  
Nay ' th' Great Machine of Heaven, if I fall,  
Must all come tumbling down upon its Ruins;  
Angels and Saints, and all th' Immortal Powers.  
For I alone support and keep 'em up:  
'Tis heavens Interest then to league with me,  
And since my fall would the whole World confound,  
Believe it cannot be, poor Star Informer,  
Thy skill hath now deceived thee: But yet know  
Your Learning I'll encourage, I intent  
To send him as my Nuncio, into Heaven,  
To let St. Peter know some News from us.  
Let him be Wracked to Death, go see it done.  
But what have we here?  Exit one of the Attendants. Enter Marforio, Florimell, Isabel, Turbin, Lupin, Two Neighbours, and the Gentleman of the White Rod. Mar. 
May it please your Holiness, I am come to have a very foul business decided before you.  Pope. 
Speak what it is, that I may Justice do.  Mar. 
And please your Holiness it was a very foul business. This Devil To Turbin. in the Habit of a Priest, is a greater lover of Pleasure than Religion; he hath seduced, corrupted, defiled and abused the Body and Bosom of my own dear self.  Pope. 
Of your own self? Explain it more at large, That I may reach your meaning—  Mar. 
The meaning is, that I and myself are all one, and please your Holiness, and this sense-seeking Priest hath abused us both.  Pope. 
If we must do you Right, then speak more plain, I understand you not.  Mar. 
my own dear Second-self, the Wife of my Body here, and please you, this painted, juggling, self-pleasing Epicurean Priest, hath seduced from the paths of Heaven and Virtue, supplied my place, in performing that Act that none but I should do: he hath exceeded the Rules of his Office, for he both Confessed and Absolved her as she was lying: he hath likewise disfigured the curious Workmanship of Nature, for he hath made me, that was once a Man, and her Lord and Master, a Monster, worse than a satire, a deformed Beast of the Horned Crew. These honest Men, and please your Holiness, can bear Witness of what I say; for they saw all: Now I beg Justice upon both these Friars (for the other was in the mean time as eagerly busy with my Maid Isabel) and that my Wife and my Maid may receive condign punishment.  Pope. 
I'll do you Justice, Turbin thou didst well,  
But prithee have a care of Marriage sins.  
To sin and have a Law to prove it just,  
A Law contrived and forged by sinful Man,  
To strain and force Nature that Generous Mistress,  
I see no sin in what hath yet been told:  
Or if there be, 'tis less than Venial.  Mar. 
Oh Horrible! Nay then I see what redress I shall have. Aside.  Pope. 
Keep single Turbin, and obey the Church,  
Or else Perdition shall pursue thee close.  
Lie with what Women may your fancy please,  
That's greater honesty than is a Wife:  
To have a Wive's a sin too great for Pardon.  
Marforio your Wife is ne'er the worse,  
For so devout and glorious an Embrace:  
For he hath shown her now Celestial Joys,  
And learned her to be wise and holy too.  
So I command you, take her with you home,  
Be kind to her and to this Reverend Priest:  
Give him admittance too, when e'er he please  
To come to her Confession any more.  
Marforio be sure you do our will.  
The Inquisition else shall make you bend.  
Now you unto your Convents may retire,  
To live secure, warmed with Religious Fire.  Mar. 
I obey and please your Holiness in all.  
Come Honey, come I love thee well enough though still:  
But 'tis because I dare not say otherwise. Aside.  Exeunt Omnes but the Pope, Odcroff the Jesuit, the Bishop, Cardinal, Guards and Attendants, etc. Pope. 
Come Odcroff is the Conjuration fixed,  
For I must know what those good Fathers did  
For th' Honour of the Church, and us Popes.  
How 'twas they made themselves and us thus great.  
What Ceremonies they patched together,  
To paint and gild our Images and Shrines.  
I'd likewise know the utmost of our Fate,  
How kind Heaven is to us, our Church and State.  
I've Faith enough to think they can do more,  
Than the poor Star gazer could do before,  
Yet he hath had his Loan—  Od. 
— Sir your commands,  
I'm ready to perform with utmost Skill,  
The Charm is wound up to its highest pitch.  
Great Sir you may command when they appear  
What things you'd see, or what it is you'd hear.  Pope. 
Haste then unto performance—  Makes Marks on the ground with a White Wan. Odcr. 
— Sir I shall.  
And thus I first begin to do your will.  
Ye Fleeting Shades that whisk about the Air,  
From East and West, from North and South repair  
Through Icy Poles, thick Fogs, and Silver Light,  
And pass the Twinkling Orb o'th' milky white.  
Let every Planet cheerfully Combine  
To Favour your swift pace and our Design,  
With Sextiles Smiles, and with a pleasing Trine.  
Exalt not Star above his fame and worth,  
Banish the Dragon's Tail beneath the Earth.  
From all bad Aspects let us too be free,  
And ye o'th' Fiery Triplicity.  
Sordo, Heroth, Ventiloth and Arcto,  
Your Cacodemons' send with power below.  
From the Four Regions, let 'em forthwith fly,  
And fiercely penetrate the yielding Sky.  
Let 'em in no affrighting Shapes appear,  
But yield such Forms as may beget no fear.  
Four Pristine Monarches of the Papal Throne,  
I summon to appear each with his Crown,  
And by this Wan command ye to fulfil,  
In all respects our Holy Fathers Will. [Makes a Circle just by the Pope.]  
Move not beyond this Geomantic Trace,  
Your power reacheth not beyond this space.  
Appear, appear now, without more delay,  
And to his Holiness your duties pay.  A Flash of Lightning from behind the Scenes, then appears on one side of the Stage the Ghost of Pope Clement the First, and Boniface the Eighth; and on the other side, the Ghost of Pope Gregory the Third, and Innocent the Third. Clem. 
Great Mortal God, we're come to do thy Will.  
We once became that Seat as well as thee,  
And did those things as might become a Pope.  
Clement the First, they called me when I swayed,  
And had that Godlike power thou hast now.  
I first ordained that Crowns should subject be  
To Rome's great Church, and own no Head but me  
In Temporal and Spiritual degree.  Pope. 
'Twas a brave Constitution, now worn old:  
As we are great, 'tis fit we should be bold.  
But who are you pray?—  Bon. 
— Boniface the Eighth.  
I in a Solemn Festival appeared,  
In Glittering Pomp, as did my Grandeur suit.  
Th' amazed Multitude upon me gazed,  
As on some God dropped from his Crystal Heaven:  
The Mortals did me on their Shoulders bear,  
When I did beam my Blessing on them all,  
Which by my Finger's Motion they perceived.  
The next day in Imperial Robes being decked,  
By my command I had before me bore  
A Naked Sword, the Mule of's Rider proud,  
Moved on in State, while I did loudly cry,  
See here Two Swords, and Lord of all the World  
As well in spiritual as temporal things.  
I am that mighty Pope, of whom Men say  
I like Lion lived; and Fox bore sway:  
And like a Dog my life consumed away.  Pope. 
All your Successors have obliged been  
For th' pious care you took to make 'em great.  Grego. 
Now give an Ear, and mark what I'm to say,  
I am called Gregory of that Name the Third:  
I made a Law that Images should be  
In Churches not for laymen's Books alone,  
But that Men should 'em honour and adore  
With greater Reverence than they did before.  
When I it lawful thought, all knew 'twas just.  
For all to sin are subject, except Popes:  
And whosoever did 'gainst this Law offend,  
Was for an Heretic forthwith condemned.  Inno. 
Now he hath spoke, pray Brother Pope hear me.  
I'm Innocent the Third, an harmless Name,  
'Twas I brought in Auricular Confession.  
What Godly Plots have by that Art been made  
To ruin and destroy poor Maiden Heads?  
Besides I with Eight hundred Fry'rs and more,  
O'th' Romish Clergy first devised and made  
The senseless knack Transubstantiation called.  
Never no Pope was looked upon as Wife,  
That did not some gay thing for th'Church devise;  
Which like a Sunbeam dazzles people's Eyes.  Pope. 
Thou hast done well, but now I would know more,  
How long shall Rome's Head and Religion live?  
Speak boldly, let me know my utmost Fate.  A Voice from behind the Scene. Voice. 
That task is mine, and none but I must do't.  
Thy empty Glory's shortly shall decay:  
A Star shall rise, whose Golden conquering Light,  
Shall thy puffed Luciferial Pride be night.  Od. 
Who e'er thou art, the Charm reached not to thee.  
Begun I say, or else thy misery,  
Shall be greater.—  Voice. 
— Foolish Conjurer, 'Tis more than thou canst do, and the mighty Charm extends to me sooner than unto these most Canonised, Tyrannising Fops.  Enter the Ghost of Pope Joan in long dishevelled hair like an Amazon. P. Joan. 
I am Pope Joan ye Scoundrel Ragamuffins and pampered Swine, and ye have blotted me out of your Calendar with a murrain to you, as if you were ashamed to own a Woman Pope's Infallibility. I'd have you to know for all that, you Religious Baboons ye, that I was as Infallible as the best of you: I was Infallibly made Pope by my great parts and learning, in which capacity I remained Two years, a month, and four days; I afterwards was infallibly got with-child by my private Gallant, and I was infallibly delivered in the Street of a fine Boy, when we both died: and ye forsooth are now so pampered up with your Pride, that you have wilfully forgot me; nay your Holiness have ever since been ashamed to pass through that Street wherein I was delivered; and moreover you have endeavoured to persuade people that my Story was a Fable, though Platina and some others of your old Friends and Cronies, have notwithstanding done me Justice and told truth.  Pope. 
Ghost th' art impudent to disgrace us thus.  
Thy presence needless is.—  Odc. 
Therefore be gone.  Pope Jo. 
I will not, must not, cannot, till I've spoke  
My mind at large, ye fine Bauble-makers:  
Your Trade is gulling, and your care is raking.  
Without a Sale of Purgatorian Souls,  
Your Triple Crowns would never shine so bright,  
Princes you make your Culleys: Boniface  
The Eighth, that precious Ghost that's here,  
He proudly writ to Philip King of France,  
That he must be acknowledged Lord of all,  
Temporal, as well as Spiritual:  
And that therefore he ought to have received  
His Kingdom France from his most holy hand;  
Which since he had not done, the Monster Pope,  
Did most unjustly Excommunicate  
The mighty King, whose ill Fate I deplore,  
And gave his Crown to Albert th' Emperor.  Bon. 
'Twas holy Zeal that prompted me unto it.  Pope Jo. 
No 'twas Pride and Interest made you do it.  
And pray how have you all employed your time,  
When you lived i'th' World, but in contriving  
Such Fooleries as would make sorrow herself smile.  
Some of you have spent your times in introducing  
The Adoration of the Cross, commanding Prayers for the Dead, forbidding Marriage to the Clergy, Blessing some Medal, forbidding the Eating of Flesh in Lent, commanding Lamps to be burnt in Churches, placing among the number of Saints, Men better qualified for Devils; permitting Hermitages in Forests, that under that pretence Travellers may be more securely Robbed: Ordaining the Relics of Saints to be Kissed and Adored, appointing Set Forms of Conjuring Devils, commanding Incense to be offered to Images, granting Temporal and perpetual Indulgences, and thus the whole Course of your Lives is inventing of Toys and Fooleries, to cheat and gull the world with.  
But now the World will learn to be more wise,  
And not be Choosed with Romish Fopperies.  Odcr. 
Thy restless Clack, I think will ne'er have done,  
thou'rt a true Woman's Ghost, yet  be gone.  Pope Jo. 
No still I've something more to say to you.  
Our Church is on such weak Foundations laid,  
As long it cannot stand—  
'Tis built on Medals, and on Cowls of Monks,  
Nuns-hoods, and Censers, Disciplining Whips,  
Chains, Cords full of knots, and Images,  
Bonnets of various Colours, Sandals, Clogs,  
Pantofles, and Mitres Pontifical,  
Cardinal's Hats, Vails Hypocritical,  
Green Hats, and Girdles, Bulls, Relics of Saints,  
Sophstry, and Books of Controversy.  
All these, and many more which I could name,  
Are the great Props t'uphold the mighty Frame.  
It stands but shivering, and a solid Gale  
From Albion, will make proud Rome bewail.  Exit Pope Joan. Clem. 
We have almost our time outstaid;  
They wait for us beneath, among the Shades:  
Say, mighty Necromancer, shall we go?  Odcr. 
You shall, but first his Holiness divert  
With some Infernal Dance.  Gre. 
We'll obey.  A Flash of Lightning, then Enters Four Devils, who dance an Antic, then Exeunt with the Popes. Pope. 
It is no matter what the World doth know,  
Although this Ghost hath told us of our own,  
Still we will be (as doth become us) Great,  
And Valiantly contemn both Heaven and Hell.  
By Turkish Policy we'll still support  
The trembling Fabric of the Roman State.  
The weak and foolish Heretics I defy:  
My Godlike power ne'er shall know decay,  
The World no other Deity shall obey.  
And since I thus my claim to th' World make clear,  
I will maintain it, though it cost me dear.  Exeunt Omnes.    

THE EPILOGUE To be spoke by Florimell.  
GAllants with eager haste I'm to you come,  
to know what rugged and ill favoured Doom.  
've given the Poet, he knows what you'll say,  
That 'tis a damned notorious Whiggish Play.  
For some of ye are wise in Folly yet,  
And know no more what's Whiggish, than what's Wit.  
For your Religion, which may want a Name,  
You're so, because your Mother was the same.  
And though to please ye, we have now taken care,  
We know ye better liked the Pope i'th' Fair.  
You're Tory's Rampant, if as whigs you doom  
All those that can't Cajole the Pope of Rome.  
He takes your Damning to be far more worse,  
Than the severest proudest Roman Curse.  
Because I tell you so, now Damn him do,  
With as much honour ye may save him too.  
Be as indifferent for the Roman Cause,  
As I was fervent to obey Love's Laws,  
Be kind to Love with as much heat as I,  
Then I dare swear you will not let him die.  
Look not a squint upon my Holy Friar,  
Whose Zeal was Love, heightened with warm desire.  
But think as I do, that he was a Saint,  
Whose youthful Piety, made him my Gallant.  
I know kind hearts, that for the sake of Love,  
You'll slit your Tongues 'ere they to Damning move.  
I fear the Men, the Lady's minds I know.  
They'll grant our Pope a smile, he's not their Foe.  
To Love, and you he ne'er was yet unkind,  
He's the true Pattern of a Generous Mind.  
He'll give ye Dispensations what ye please,  
So ye to him your Consciences will ease.  
But still Gallants, if you'll a damning be,  
Spare Pope and Poet; for their Crimes Damn me.  
FINIS.