_Aur._ [_To_ LAU.] Now, Laura, you may take your choice betwixt the two Benito's, and consider whether you had rather he should serenade you in the garden, or I in bed to-night. _Lau._ You may be sure I shall give sentence for Benito; for the effect of your serenading would be to make me pay the music nine months hence. _Hip._ [_To_ ASCA.] You see, brother, here's a general gaol-delivery: there has been a great deal of bustle and disturbance in the cloister to-night; enough to distract a soul which is given up, like me, to contemplation: and therefore, if you think fit, I could even be content to retire, with you, into the world; and, by way of penance, to marry you; which, as husbands and wives go now, is a greater mortification than a nunnery. _Asca._ No, sister; if you love me, keep to your monastery: I'll come now and then to the grate, and beg you a recreation. But I know myself so well, that if I had you one twelvemonth in the world, I should run myself into a cloister, to be rid of you. _Soph._ Nieces, once more farewell. Adieu, Lucretia: My wishes and my prayers attend you all. _Luc._ to _Fred._ I am so fearful, That, though I gladly run to your embraces, Yet, venturing in the world a second time, Methinks I put to sea in a rough storm, With shipwrecks round about me. _Fred._ My dear, be kinder to yourself and me, And let not fear fright back our coming joys; For we, at length, stand reconciled to fate: And now to fear, when to such bliss we move, Were not to doubt our fortune, but our love. [_Exeunt._ EPILOGUE. Some have expected, from our bills to-day, To find a satire in our poet's play. The zealous route from Coleman-street did run, To see the story of the Friar and Nun; Or tales, yet more ridiculous to hear, Vouched by their vicar of ten pounds a-year,-- Of Nuns, who did against temptation pray, And discipline laid on the pleasant way: Or that, to please the malice of the town, } Our poet should in some close cell have shown } Some sister, playing at content alone: } This they did hope; the other side did fear; And both, you see, alike are cozened here. Some thought the title of our play to blame; They liked the thing, but yet abhorred the name: Like modest punks, who all you ask afford, But, for the world, they would not name that word. Yet, if you'll credit what I heard him say, Our poet meant no scandal in his play; His Nuns are good, which on the stage are shown, And, sure, behind our scenes you'll look for none. Footnotes: 1. A common name for a cat, being that by which the representative of the feline race is distinguished in the History of Reynard the Fox. See Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet._ 2. _Stickle._ To interfere. 3. _Rondaches._ Targets or bucklers. These were a part of the equipment of a serenader. See that of Quevedo's Night Adventurer.