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Well. All will come out.
Over. How ! Lady. The better.
All. So I assure you; all the rites of marOver. But that I will live, rogue, to torture
With every circumstance, are past: Alas, sir ! And make thee wish and kneel in vain to die, Although I am no lord, but a lord's page, These swords, that keep thee from me, should Your daughter, and my loved wife, mourns not fix here,
for it; Although they made my body but one wound, And for right honourable son-in-law, you may say But I would reach thee.
Your dutiful daughter. Lov. Heaven's hand is in this ;
Over. Devil ! are they married ? One bandog worry the other!
Welldo. Do a father's part, and say, Heaven Over. I play the fool, and make my anger but
give them joy! ridiculous.
Over. Confusion and ruin ! speak, and speak There will be a time, and place, there will be,
quickly, cowards !
Or thou art dead, When you shall feel what I dare do.
Welldo. They are married. Well. I think so:
Over. Thou hadst better You dare do any ill, yet want true valour Have made a contract with the king of fiends To be honest and repent.
Than these. My brain turns! Oder. They are words I know not,
Welldo. Why this rage to me? Nore'er will learn. Patience, the beggar's virtue, Is not this your letter, sir ? and these the words Shall find no harbour bere. After these storms, Marry her to this gentleman ? At length a calm appears.
Over. It cannot:
Nor will I e'er believe it, 'death! I will not; Enter GREEDY and Parson WELLDO.
That I, that in all passages I touched Welcome, most welcome!
At worldly profit have not left a print There's comfort in thy looks; is the deed done? Where I have trod, for the most curious search Is my daughter married? say but so, my chaplain, To trace my footsteps, should be gulled by And I am tame.
children, Welldo. Married ? yes, I assure you.
Bafiled and fooled, and all my hopes and labours Over. Then vanish all sad thoughts! there's Defeated and made void. more gold for thee.
Well. As it appears, My doubts and fears are in the titles drowned You are so, my grave uncle. of my right honourable, right honourable daugh- Over. Village nurses ter.
wrongs with curses ; I'll not waste Greedy. Here will be feasting at least for a A syllable, but thus I take the life, month!
Which, wretch! I gave to thee. I am provided : empty guts, croak no more !
(Offers to kill MARGARET. You shall be stuffed, like bag-pipes, not with Loo, Hold, for your own sake! wind,
Though charity to your daughter hath quite left But bearing dishes.
you, Over. Instantly be here?
Will you do an act, though in your hopes lost (Whispering to Welldo.
here, To my wish, to my wish! Now, you that plot Can leave no hope for peace or rest hereafter ? against me,
Consider ; at the best you're but a man, And hoped to trip my heels up, that contemned And cannot so create your aims, but that me,
They may be cross'd. Think on it and tremble !_[Loud music.)-They Over. Lord! thus I spit at thee, come; I hear the music.
And at thy counsel; and again desire thee, A lane there for my lord !
As thou art a soldier, if thy valour Well. This sudden heat
Dares shew itself where multitude and example May yet be cooled, sir.
Lead not the way, let's quit the house, and change Óner. Make way there, for my lord !
Lov. I am ready.
Lady. Stay, sir; contest with one distracted! Lady.
Well. You'll grow like him, Marg. Sir, first your pardon, then your bless- Should you answer his vain challenge. ing, with
Over. Are you pale ? Your full allowance of the choice I have made. Borrow his help; though Hercules call it odds, As ever you could make use of your reason, I'll stand against both, as I am hemm'd in thus. Grow not in passion ; since you may as well Since, like a Libyan lion in the toil, Call back the day that's past, as untie the knot My fury cannot reach the coward hunters, Which is too strongly fastened ;
and only spends itself, I'll quit the place : Not to dwell too long on words, (Kneeling Alone, I can do nothing, but I have servants This is my husband.
And triends to second me; and if I make not
This house a heap of ashes, (by my wrongs,
Are friends and servants? Say they were a squadron What I have spoke I will make good !) or leave Of pikes, lined through with shot, when I am One throat uncut,-if it be possible,
mounted Hell add to my afflictions !
[Exit. Upon my injuries, shall I fear to charge them? Mar. Is't not brave sport?
No: I'll through the battalia, and, that routed, Greedy. Brave sport ! I am sure it has ta'en
[Flourishing his sword sheathed. away my stomach;
I'll fall to execution.—Ha! I am feeble : I do not like the sauce.
Some undone widow sits
upon mine arm, All. Nay, weep not, dearest,
And takes away the use of't! and my sword, Though it express your pity; what decreed Glewed to my scabbard with wronged orphans' Above we cannot alter.
tears, Lady. His threats move me
Will not be drawn. Ha! what are these ? Sure, No scruple, madam.
hangmen, Mar. Was it not a rare trick,
That come to bind my hands, and then to drag An' it please your worship, to make the deed nothing?
Before the judgment-seat.-Now they are new I can do twenty neater, if you please
shapes, To purchase and grow rich; for I will be And do appear like furies, with steel whips, Such a solicitor and steward for you,
To scourge my ulcerous soul! Shall I then fall As never worshipful had.
Ingloriously, and yield ? No: spite of fate, Well, I do believe thee;
I will be forced to hell like to myself; But first discover the quaint means you used Though you were legions of accursed spirits, To raze out the conveyance?
Thus would I fly among you.Mar. They are mysteries
(Rushes forward. Not to be spoke in public: certain minerals Well. There's no help; Incorporated in the ink and wax.-
Disarm him first, then bind him, Besides, he gave me nothing, but still fed me Greedy. Take a mittimus, With hopes and blows; and that was the in- And carry him to Bedlam. ducement
1.00. How he foams !
There try what art can do for his recovery.
(They force OVER. off.
That, when we leave religion, and turn atheists, Or favour from me; I will shun thy sight Their own abilities leave them, Pray you take As I would do a basilisk's: thank my pity,
[To MARG. If thou keep thy ears: howe'er, I will take order I will endeavour you shall be his guardians Your practice shall be silenced.
In his distraction: and for your land, Master Greedy. I'll commit him,
Wellborn, If you will have me, sir,
Be it good or ill in law, I'll be an umpire Well. That were to little purpose ;
Between you and this the undoubted heir His conscience be his prison. Not a word, Of Sir Giles Overreach ; for me, here's the But instantly be gone.
anchor Ord. Take this kick with you,
That I must fix on. (Takes the lady's hand, Amb. And this.
All, What you shall determine, Furn. If that I had my cleaver here,
My lord, I will allow of. I would divide your knave's head.
Well. 'Tis the language, Mar. This is the haven
That I speak too; but there is something else False servants still arrive at.
[Erit. Beside the repossession of my land
And payment of my debts, that I must practise. Rerenter OVERREACH.
I had a reputation, but 'twas lost Lady. Come again!
In my loose course; and, till I redeem it Lov. Fear not, I am your guard.
Some noble way, I am but half made up. Well. His looks are ghastly,
It is a time of action; if your lordship Welldo. Some little time I have spent, under Will please to confer a company upon me, your favours,
In your command, I doubt not, in my service In physical studies, and if my judgment err not, To my king and country, but I shall do sono He's mad beyond recovery: but observe him,
thing And look to yourselves.
That may make me right again. Over. Why, is not the whole world
Lov. Your suit is granted, Included in myself ? to what use then
And you loved for the motion;
Well. Nothing wants, then, [To the Audience. But your allowance-and, in that, our all Is comprehended; it being known, nor we, Nor he that wrote the comedy, can be free Without your manumission; which, if you Grant willingly, as a fair favour due
The poet's and our labours, as you may,
SIR R. HOWARD.
To cheat the most judicious eyes, there be Those are words too a poet dares not say;
Let it be good or bad, you're sure to pay. Your tradesman shews his ware by some false –Would 'twere a penn'worth ;- but in this light,
you are To hide the faults and slightness from your sight; Abler to judge than he that made the ware ; Nay, though'tis full of bracks, he'll boldly swear However, his design was well enough; 'Tis excellent, and so help off his ware; He try'd to shew some newer-fashion'd stuff: He'll rule your judgment by his confidence, Not that the name Committee can be new; Which in a poet you'd call impudence;
That has been too well known to most of you : Nay, if the world afford the like again,
But you may smile, for you have past your doom; He swears he'll give it you for nothing then. The poet dares not,--his is still to come.
sent in disorder, and so I was fain to shift in SCENE I.
this ;-but I warrant you, if his honour, Mr Day,
chairman of the honourable committee of Enter Mrs Day, brushing her hoods and scarfs, trations, should know that his wife rode in a
sequesMrs ARBELLA, Mrs Ruth, Colonel BLUNT, stage-coach, he would make the house too hot for and a Stage-coachman.
some. -Why, how is't with you, sir ? What, Mrs Day. Now, out upon't, how dusty 'tis ! weary of your journey? [To the Colonel. All things consider'd, 'tis better travelling in the Blunt. Her tongue will never tire. (Aside.)winter, especially for us of the better sort, that So many, mistress, riding in the coach, has a litride in coaches. And yet, to say truth, warm tle distemper'd me with heat. weather is both pleasant and comfortable: ’tis a Mrs Day. So many, sir! why there were but thousand pities that fair weather should do any six-What would you say if I should tell you burt.-Well said, honest coachman, thou hast that I was one of eleven that travell’d at one done thy part! My son Abel paid for my place time in one coach? at Reading; did he not?
Blunt. O, the devil! I have given her a new Coach. Yes, an't please you.
[Aside. Mrs Day. Well, there's something extraordi- Mrs Day. Why, I'll tell you-Can you guess nary, to make thee drink.
how 'twas? Coach. By my whip, 'tis a groat of more than Blunt. Not I, truly. But 'tis no matter, I do ordinary thinness.- Plague on this new gentry, believe it. how liberal they are. (Aside.] Farewell, young Mrs Day. Look you, thus it was: there was, mistress; farewell, gentlemen. Pray, when you in the first place, myself
, and my husband I should come by Reading, let Toby carry you. [Exit. have said first, but his honour would have par
Mrs Day. Why, how now, Mrs Arbella! What, don'd me if he had heard me; Mr Busie that I sad! Why, what's the matter?
told you of, and his wife; the mayor of Reading Arb. I am not very sad.
and his wife; and this Ruth that you see there, Mrs Day. Nay, by my honour, you need not, in one of our laps—but now, where do think if you knew as much as I. Well I'll tell you the rest were ? one thing; you are well enough; you need not Blunt. A top o'th' coach, sure. fear, whoever does; say I told you so—if you do Mrs Day. Nay, 1 durst swear you would never not hurt yourself; for as cunning as he is, and guess-why-would you think it; I had two let him be as cunning as he will, I can see, with growing in my belly, Mrs Busie one in hers, and half an eye, that my son Abel means to take care Mrs Mayoress of Reading a chopping boy, as it of you in your composition, and will needs have proved afterwards, in hers, as like the father as if you his guest. Ruth and you shall be bed- it had been spit out of his mouth; and if he had follows. I warrant, that same Abel many and come out of his mouth, he had come out of as Inany a time will wish his sister's place; or else honest a man's mouth as any in forty miles of his father ne'er got him—Though I say it, that the head of him: for, would you think it? at the should not say it, yet I do say it- -'tis a nota- very same time, when this same Ruth was sick, ble fellow
it being the first time the girl was ever coach'd, Arb. I am fallen into strange hands, if they the good man, Mr Mayor, I mean, that I spoke prove as busy as her tongue.
(Aside. of, held his hat for the girl to ease her stomach Mrs Day. And now you talk of this same in. Abel, I tell you but one thing: -I wonder that
Enter ABEL and OBADIAH. neither he nor my husband's honour's chief clerk, Obadiah, is not here ready to attend me. -0, are you come ? Long look'd for comes at I dare warrant my son Abel has been here two last. What you have a slow, set pace, as well hours before us; 'tis the veriest Princox; he as your hasty scribble, sometimes. Did you not will ever be gallopping, and yet he is not full one- think it fit that I should have found attendance and-twenty, for all his appearances. He never ready for me when I alighted ? stole this trick of gallopping ; his father was just 06. I ask your honour's pardon; for I do prosuch another before him, and would gallop with fess unto your ladyship, I had attended sooner, the best of 'em: he and Mrs Busie's husband but that his young honour, Mr Abel, demurrd were counted the best horsemen in Reading- me by his delays. ay, and Berkshire to boot. I have rode formerly Mrs Day. Well
, son Abel, you must be obey'd; behind Mr Busie, but in truth I cannot now en- and I partly, if not quite, guess your business ; dure to travel but in a coach ; my own is at pre- providing for the entertainment of one I have