SCENE XIII. _Another Apartment._ _Old_ Laroon, Jourdain, Isabel, _a Priest_, _Young_ Laroon, Martin, _and_ Beatrice. _Mart._ Whither would you pull me? _Yo. Lar._ Villain, I'll shew thee whither. _Mart._ Ha! _Yo. Lar._ Down on thy Knees, confess thy self the worst of Villains, or I'll drive this Dagger to thy Heart. _Priest._ He needs not confess, our Ears are sufficient Witnesses against him. _Old Lar._ Huzzah! Huzzah! The Priest is caught, the Priest is caught. _Jourd._ I am Thunder-struck with Amazement. _Old Lar._ How durst you attempt to debauch my Son, you black Rascal: I have a great Mind to make an Example of you for attempting to dishonour my Family. _Priest._ You shall be made a severe Example of for having dishonour'd your Order. _Mart._ I shall find another time to answer you. _Old Lar._ Hold, Sir, hold. I have too much Charity not to cleanse you, as much as possible, from your Pollution. So, Who's there? [_Enter Servants._] Here take this worthy Gentleman, and wash him a little in a Horse-pond, then toss him dry in a Blanket. _1 Serv._ We will wash him with a Vengeance. _All._ Ay, ay, we'll wash him. _Mart._ You may repent this, Mr. _Laroon_. SCENE _the Last_. _Old_ Laroon, _Young_ Laroon, Jourdain, _Priest_, Isabel, _and_ Beatrice. _Priest._ Tho' he deserves the worst, yet consider his Order, Mr. _Laroon_. _Old Lar._ Sir, he shall undergo the Punishment, tho' I suffer the like afterwards. Well, Master _Jourdain_, I hope you are now convinced, that you may marry your Daughter without going to Purgatory for it. _Jourd._ I hope you will pardon what is past, my good Neighbour. And you, young Gentleman, will, I hope, do the same. If my Girl can make you any amends, I give you her for ever. _Yo. Lar._ Amends! Oh! She would make me large Amends for twenty thousand times my Sufferings. _Isa._ Tell me so hereafter, my dear Lover. A Woman may make a Man amends for his Sufferings before Marriage; but can she make him amends for what he suffers after it? _Yo. La._ Oh! think not that can ever be my Fate with you. _Old Lar._ Pox o' your Raptures. If you don't make her suffer before to-morrow-morning, thou art no Son of mine, and if she does not make you suffer within this Twelve-month: Blood she is no Woman--Come, honest Neighbour, I hope thou hast discovered thy own Folly and the Priest's Roguery together, and thou wilt return and be one of us again. _Jourd._ Mr. _Laroon_, if I have err'd on one side, you have err'd as widely on the other. Let me tell you, a Reflexion on the Sins of your Youth would not be unwholesome. _Old Lar._ 'Sblood Sir! but it wou'd. Reflexion is the most unwholesome thing in the World. Besides, Sir, I have no Sins to reflect on but those of an honest Fellow. If I have lov'd a Whore at five and twenty, and a Bottle at forty; Why, I have done as much good as I could, in my Generation; and that, I hope, will make amends.