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Of the Prioress of this place,

Amongst you all to visit one

That's come for approbation;

Before she was as now you are,

The daughter of Sir Arthur Clare,

But since she now became a Nune,

Call'd Milliscnet of Edmunton.

NUN.

Holy man, repose you there;

This news I'll to our Abbess bear,

To tell her what a man is sent,

And your message and intent.

MOUNTCHENSEY.

Benedicite.

NUN.

Benedicite.

[Exit.]

MOUNTCHENSEY.

Do, my good plump wench; if all fall right,

I'll make your sister-hood one less by night.

Now happy fortune speed this merry drift,

I like a wench comes roundly to her shrift.

[Enter Lady, Milliscent.]

LADY.

Have Friars recourse then to the house of Nuns?

MILLISCENT.

Madam, it is the order of this place,

When any virgin comes for approbation,—

Lest that for fear or such sinister practise

She should be forced to undergo this veil,

Which should proceed from conscience and devotion,—

A visitor is sent from Waltham house,

To take the true confession of the maid.

LADY.

Is that the order? I commend it well:

You to your shrift, I'll back unto the cell.

[Exit.]

MOUNTCHENSEY.

Life of my soul! bright Angel!

MILLISCENT.

What means the Friar?

MOUNTCHENSEY.

O Milliscent, tis I.

MILLISCENT.

My heart misgives me; I should know that voice.

You? who are you? The holy virgin bless me!

Tell me your name: you shall, ere you confess me.

MOUNTCHENSEY.

Mountchensey, thy true friend.

MILLISCENT.

My Raymond, my dear heart!

Sweet life, give leave to my distracted soul,

To wake a little from this swoon of joy.

By what means camst thou to assume this shape?

MOUNTCHENSEY.

By means of Peter Fabell, my kind Tutor,

Who in the habit of Friar Hildersham,

Franke Jerningham's old friend and confessor,

Helped me to act the part of priestly novice,

Plotted by Franke, by Fabell and my self,

And so delivered to Sir Arthur Clare,

Who brought me here unto the Abbey gate,

To be his Nun-made daughter's visitor.

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