_Y. Lar._ Sir, you have nothing to do now, but to prepare the Match with the utmost Expedition. _Old Lar._ This St. _Francis_ must lye, or the Boy would not be so eager upon the Affair: No one is ever eager to sign Articles when they have entered the Town.----Well, Master _Jourdain_, if the young Dog has tripped up your Daughter's Heels in an unlawful way, as St. _Francis_ says, why, he shall make her amends and--and do it in a lawful one. So I'll go see for my Son, while you go and comfort the poor Chicken that is pining for fear of a Nunnery.----Odsheart, it would be very hard indeed, when a Girl has once had her Belly full, that she must fast all her Life afterwards. _Y. Lar._ I have deliver'd my Commission and shall now return to my Convent----Farewel, and return Thanks to St. _Francis_. _Jourd._ Oh! St. _Francis_! St. _Francis_! What a merciful Saint art thou! SCENE IV. _Another Apartment._ Martin, Isabel. _Mart._ Indeed, Child, there are Pleasures in a retired Life, which you are entirely ignorant of. Nay, there are Indulgencies granted to People in that State, which would be sinful out of it. And, perhaps, the same Liberties are permitted them with one Person, which are deny'd them with another. Come, put on a chearful Countenance, you don't know what you are design'd for. _Isa._ No, but I know what I am not design'd for. _Mart._ Let me feel your Pulse. _Isa._ You are a Physician as well as a Priest, I suppose. _Mart._ Have you never any odd Dreams? _Isa._ No. _Mart._ Do you never find any strange Emotions? _Isa._ No. None but what I believe are very natural. _Mart._ Strange that!----Did you never see me in your Sleep? _Isa._ I never dream of a Priest, I assure you. _Mart._ Nay, nay; be candid, confess, perhaps, there may be nothing so sinful in it. We cannot help what we are design'd for. We are only passive, and the Sin lies not at our Doors. While you are only passive, I'll answer for your Sins. _Isa._ What do you mean? _Mart._ That you must not yet know--Great things are design'd for you, very great things are designed for you. _Isa._ (Hum! I begin to guess what is design'd for me.) [_Aside._ _Mart._ Those Eyes have a Fire in them that scarce seems mortal. Come hither----give me a Kiss----ha! there is a Sweetness in that Breath like what I've read of _Ambrosia_. That Bosom heaves like those of Priestesses of old, when big with Inspiration. _Isa._ (Haity-tity----Are you thereabouts good Father?) [_Aside._ _Mart._ Let me embrace thee, my dear Daughter, let me give thee Joy of such Promotion, such Happiness as will attend you. _Isa._ I'll try this reverend Gentleman his own way. [_Aside._ _Mart._ You must resign your self up to my Will, you must be passive in all things. _Isa._ Oh! let me thus beg Pardon, on my Knees, for an Offence which Modesty occasioned. _Mart._ Ha! speak.