of new wine.'

Bishop. Seculars, truly! If I had not in my secularity picked up a
spice of chivalry to the ladies, I should long ago have turned out
you and your regulars, to cant elsewhere. Plague on this gout--I
must sit.

Eliz. Let me settle your cushion, uncle.

Bishop. So! girl! I sent for you from Botenstain. I had a mind,
now, to have kept you there until your wits returned, and you would
say Yes to some young noble suitor. As if I had not had trouble
enough about your dower!--If I had had to fight for it, I should not
have minded:--but these palavers and conferences have fretted me
into the gout: and now you would throw all away again, tired with
your toy, I suppose. What shall I say to the Counts, Varila, and
the Cupbearer, and all the noble knights who will hazard their lands
and lives in trying to right you with that traitor? I am ashamed to
look them in the face! To give all up to the villain!--To pay him
for his treason!

Eliz. Uncle, I give but what to me is worthless. He loves these
baubles--let him keep them, then: I have my dower.

Bishop. To squander on nuns and beggars, at this rogue's bidding?
Why not marry some honest man? You may have your choice of kings
and princes; and if you have been happy with one gentleman, Mass!
say I, why can't you be happy with another? What saith the
Scripture? 'I will that the younger widows marry, bear children,'--
not run after monks, and what not--What's good for the filly, is
good for the mare, say I.

Eliz. Uncle, I soar now at a higher pitch--
To be henceforth the bride of Christ alone.

Bishop. Ahem!--a pious notion--in moderation. We must be moderate,
my child, moderate: I hate overdoing anything--especially religion.

Con. Madam, between your uncle and myself
This question in your absence were best mooted.

[Exit Elizabeth.]

Bishop. How, priest? do you order her about like a servant-maid?

Con. The saints forbid! Now--ere I lose a moment--

[Kneeling.]

[Aside] All things to all men be--and so save some--
[Aloud] Forgive, your grace, forgive me,
If mine unmannered speech in aught have clashed
With your more tempered and melodious judgment:
Your courage will forgive an honest warmth.
God knows, I serve no private interests.

Bishop. Your order's, hey? to wit?

Con. My lord, my lord,
There may be higher aims: but what I said,
I said but for our Church, and our cloth's honour.
Ladies' religion, like their love