he knees
Upon this pavement. I am weary of it.

_Enter Jacobo, with Antonio._

_Jac._ One who inquires for thee, Anselmo,
Who would confess.

_Gasp._ (_Takes a confessional chair._) I know the man:
Jacobo, leave us. [_Exit Jacobo._
My son, we are alone; now thou may'st profit
By holy rite, and on thy bended knees
Pour out thy soul to me in deep contrition.
Hast thou perform'd the penance I enjoin'd
For the sad stumblings thou did'st last confess?

_Ant._ I have, most holy father, to my belief
Obey'd thy strict injunction.
I have so much to think of for my master,
My thoughts are scarce mine own;
Still do I often call upon the saints.

_Gasp._ I trust thou dost--and not as I have heard
That worldlings do, invoke them in mere blasphemy.

_Ant._ Nay, father, when I call, I am sincere.

_Gasp._ Thou dost evade, I fear, with double meaning.
But to the purpose--by what sins hast thou,
Since last we met, endanger'd thy poor soul?

_Ant._ Father, my mind is ill at ease. I serve
A master most equivocal--a false one
In all he says and does; in love--in everything.
I know not what to think. He's here and there--
In fact, I do believe he is--the devil.

_Gasp._ Give me the grounds for this thy strange suspicion.

_Ant._ He keeps his chamber lock'd, his haunts unknown.
He comes when least expected. How he comes
I cannot tell. He goes, and Heaven knows where.
I ne'er can make him out with all my prying.

_Gasp._ It would appear thy master doth not trust thee.
Why should'st thou watch, and seek to find out that
He would conceal? This base prying nature
Is a dark sin, and must be check'd by penance.
Hast thou no more?

_Ant._ Yes, father, I've a grievous fault to tell;
One that I'm fearful thou wilt much abhor--
An accident, 'tis true, and most unlucky--
I have two wives in Seville.

_Gasp._ Two wives! Thou hast profaned the holy rite!
What! wedded twice! and say 'twas accident!

_Ant._ An accident--they both have come to Seville.

_Gasp._ It is a heinous sin--one that demands
Justice on earth; scarce pardon claims from Heaven.
Two wives! How long hast thou thus lived in sin?

_Ant._ 'Tis now three years since I did wed the second!
I had forgot, my memory is so bad,
I wedded was before--till yesterday,
I chanced to meet with both of them in Seville.

_Gasp._ Thy memory's most convenient, but the law
Will not o'erlook thy crime when it is known.

_Ant._ We'll leave it to the law, then, please thee, fat